


Love in the Time of Covid

by babypinklouis, Typosmyown



Category: 1D - Fandom
Genre: Bottom Louis, Harry Styles Has a Large Cock, M/M, Nerd Louis, Not really nerd Louis, Not really shy Harry, Promise of a positive message, Shy Harry, Smut, Uni Setting, all the usual explicit smut...you know the list if you’ve read this far, minor (nondescript) violence, stay safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babypinklouis/pseuds/babypinklouis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typosmyown/pseuds/Typosmyown
Summary: Uni student Harry has just returned from a year long stint volunteering with Doctors Without Boarders. Rumors among those who learn Harry had Ebola while abroad speculate that his new compromised immune-system disorder is some kind of HIV-Ebola hybrid virus.This is not the case and yet Harry arrives home to an empty flat. His boyfriend/flatmate has dumped him. Harry needs help with rents.A uni “roommate service” pairs Harry with Louis Tomlinson, a nerdy type. They barely know each other when Covid-19 hits. Quarantine mandate.How could Harry know how much his new roommate will become his life-line.
Relationships: Adding relationships, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Larrylarrylarry, Lilo - Relationship, Zouis - Relationship, litl’ harshaw, nouis - Relationship
Comments: 89
Kudos: 205





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blff Mods](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Blff+Mods).



> Grateful to have @babypinklouis to help with this fiction. Will strive to avoid the usual Typos’ overly-complicated plot. More of a fun, kindness-story for this troubling time. Community and science matters.
> 
> Promise a smutty, cock loving Louis. Hugh-cock Harry.

Harry is finally able to return home from Africa.

It takes Harry twelve hours from airport to airport. Africa to UK. 

The precautions required for Harry, who was volunteering with Doctors Without Boarders when he contracted Ebola, are understandably above the ordinary level. 

Harry would like to think disease would be behind him as his plane lands at Heathrow. Home, exhausted from the numerous transfers in country before he left the continent of Africa, the long delay of needing to get to the airport early to fly to the UK, the hold up in customs, it surely can’t get worse. 

Despite being a British citizen, Harry’s bout with Ebola has him required to pass extra measures. Making it through the hoops he finally sees Gemma. She has balloons in hand, jumping and waving. His mum runs to him. Anne must have told her son a thousand times since his recovery from the often lethal virus that she wants him home. 

Harry knows immediately that something is wrong despite their exuberance. 

His mum and sister are ecstatic to see Harry. How could they not be? Harry is lucky to have survived Ebola. 

However there is something in the excitement and warmth that is _awkward, unsettling_. Harry looks around. He expects that he will surely see the one he has missed the most like lovers do...where is his love? 

*** 

Two days after Harry arrived back to London. Anne and Gemma are staying on with him. They broke the news that his boyfriend left him enroute from Heathrow to his flat. Harry has reached a point where he needs to grapple with his heartbreak alone. 

Harry is not a child anymore. He has suffered greatly in his gap year with the harshest conditions in the Congo. Nearly losing his life with Ebola only to come home to learn the love of his life has left him. 

_Left_ and left zero trace of his existence. He moved out taking all reminders of the pieces of their shared lives. 

The second bedroom, rarely used, is completely empty. Shy of some hooks on the walls where pictures once hung and an unswept carpet there is no sign of his existence. 

...‘Love in the Age of Covid’ is a Bottom Louis, Larry Endgame fic dedicated to the blff mods.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s non-contagious medical condition, MS, is used as a proxy to convey the message of _treating people with kindness_. Now, more than ever, when there is so much suffering in the world, we all can assume anyone among us could have a larger [medical] challenge than we (or even they) know. 
> 
> We give you ‘Love in the Age of Covid’, a happily ever after Larry fiction.  
> ***

Harry’s unfortunate experience of contracting Ebola resulted in the discovery and diagnosis of another condition that he had been living with. During Harry’s fight to survive the virus, he felt symptoms of what the lesions on his brain and his spine do to his body should he become ill with some other disease. 

People with MS have an immune system that attacks the myelin sheath that protects their own nervous system. The disease frequently leads to loss of function that can range widely from mild numbness to inability to walk or loss of sight. Some people have a relapsing-remitting form of the disease. Others have a steady decline once diagnosed. The lucky ones can live their entire life with virtually no symptoms, their disease only discovered after living that normal life with an autopsy after passing. 

Harry would have likely fallen into the latter category. It was only how his body reacted under the effects of Ebola that gave Harry a glimpse of how ravaged his nervous system is. Prior to this experience, the only hint Harry had of the hidden immune system condition was a weird sensation he got when he dipped his chin downward to his chest suddenly. In doing that movement, Harry always got a bizarre sudden but brief sensation of tingling rush through his entire body. It wasn’t a pleasant tingling like when having an orgasm; it was searing pain followed with a short-lived numbness. Harry’s solution to the weird cause and effect was to not dip his chin to chest like that.

That was before Ebola.

Home in London, back at University, where he is pursuing a degree in Hospital Administration, Harry is among the most advanced medical expertise in all of Europe. He has the best neurologist in the UK as his physician.

He knows how to mitigate the effects of the disease. Take care of himself. Eat healthily. Exercise. Get lots of rest and... avoid stress. 

Stress. How does one avoid stress? Harry was going to pose this question to his neurologist while they were discussing his disease and which MS drug Harry is beginning to take but then Harry realizes. He doesn't want talk to anyone about his ex, the pain of being dumped because Harry has MS, or the stress it creates to have to pay for the rents by himself.

How ironic it is that Harry’s ex insisted that they take the lease on that flat in the priciest region close to Uni and yet his ex abandoned Harry to the full financial obligations written in the lease when he decided to secretly move out before Harry got home. He was such a coward that, had Anne and Gemma not gone by the flat to leave Harry some homecoming gifts there before meeting him at the airport, they would not have discovered Harry’s boyfriend mid-move.

Coward or not, former lover or not, one thing the twat is for sure is the cause of great financial stress for student Harry Styles. 

Following his doctor appointment, Harry goes to the Offices of Student Services to seek help from the Residential Division in finding a new roommate. The start of the new class term is in a few days. Most students will have settled on their living arrangements. Harry hopes to find someone that can assume half the rents rather than accept Anne’s offer to help with financial support.

The Ebola thing followed by the MS diagnosis has left his mother very concerned for her son. Harry can’t tell her how much adding her worry for him on top of his own misery being rejected without a word was too much. 

There it is. Too much stress. Stress, even the simplest of stresses like that, caused by having common cold can exacerbate MS symptoms.

***

An email comes to Harry from Residential twenty-four hours after Harry filed his application. The prospect of having found an acceptable roommate so quickly has Harry feeling celebratory for the first time since he got home. Harry followed the nice lady’s advice, the one who entered his request in the database. She advised him to not make too many restrictions in a roommate preference if he wanted a fast response. If his lease allows pets but he hates cats, she advised, don’t say “no cats”.

In truth Harry loves cats. Dogs. Children...could he live with a roommate who is a single parent? Sure. They would share a flat with two large bedrooms, so why not?

When Harry opened the response to the search, he finds a surprisingly ideal roommate has been identified.

Harry was being sent contact information for fellow Uni student Louis Tomlinson. Louis checked off nothing in his profile Harry would have mixed feelings about that. There is only negative on a fairly long list of preferences and characteristics. On a ten-point scale, Louis marked down extremely messy. Harry is extremely neat. If this is the worst thing about Louis, Harry can live with it.

Excited to meet the prospective roommate the next day, wanting to celebrate, Harry calls around to find someone to join him at a pub. Oddly, none of Harry’s old mates is returning Harry’s calls. He suspects this is connected to the breakup. Harry decides, if he is on his own, to dress for going to a dance club. Perhaps, he heads out showing too much tits, but Harry needs to feel good about himself. Doctors’ order. 

*** 

There are two philosophies of when is ideal to arrive at a club. One: get there early to carve out a good location to spot persons of interest as they arrive. This philosophy is ideal for the person who needs a drink or two early on to control nerves. Harry never gave thought to his nerves. Since the diagnosis, since he gets vibes that friends are avoiding him ever since his well-known Ebola-thing, Harry is uncharacteristically focused on his nerves. 

The second approach to clubbing philosophy is: get there late. The classic make an entrance, _the party don’t start ‘til I arrive_ , has always been Harry’s style. Thus, he arrives to the club late. It is packed, hot, with so many dancing collegiate youth gathering in mass, looking for a hookup at the precipice of classes resuming. 

Harry orders a pint and a shot. His frayed nerves, literally, needing to catch up with the energy of the crowd. Drinks in hand, he is met with the smiles of anyone whose eyes meet his. Mostly the smiles are from women. Per usual, he is met with many smiles of fellow men. 

Finding a spot where he can scan the dance floor, he sips his beer. He asks a passing waitress for another shot, “...two please, oh and another pint.” 

The waitress meanders through the crowd, collecting empties on her way to the bar and Harry turns back to scanning. 

_Oh my god,_ Harry thinks, observing a couple on the edge of the dance floor. 

Back to a wall, facing Harry’s direction is a tall, handsome, muscular specimen. His chiseled features are like that of a Greek god. His male dance partner is considerably smaller and grinding on a slightly extended leg that he straddles between his thighs. His hands hold onto his partner‘s broad shoulders, making it so he can gyrate in a fashion akin to that of a stripper doing a lap dance. 

The smaller one is notably distractingly slutty in both his style of dress as well as the way he grinds on his partner. 

The jeans, tight, so tight that they bite into his hips at the waist, show the shape of his thighs, thighs thick and possibly athletically firm. The way the lad moves accentuates the best part of the fit of the jeans; jeans stretched so tight that the dance partner can’t get his hands inside them though he tries several times. The hulking jock resigns himself to groping the ample bum with large hands on rear pockets. This he does as he nibbles on the neck and shoulders of his small partner. 

Combined with the waistband-biting into flesh jeans, is the gyrating lad’s choice of shirt. 

Was he attacked by a bear? Did he dig through women's wear to find the shirt, run it through a shredder before dressing? It is hard to say what the fashion statement is meant to imply, except to deliberately expose much of his midsection. The shirt, with its asymmetric cropped hemline and its slashed elements, exposes much of the lad’s body. Enough to show the tight waistband cutting into hips, allowing a peek at what appears to be a twink-like torso as he dances on the thigh of a hulking specimen of manhood. 

Harry’s drinks arrive; he takes his eyes off the couple to pay her, only to find the pair has left. A frantic scan doesn't turn them up. Harry downs his second rounds and looks for the waitress for ordering another.

*** 

A soft knock on the door announces the prospective new roommate.

Harry’s hangover-headache was gone mid-morning and he is feeling well enough now to make a good impression, should he like this Louis. The only hobby Louis had included in his form was football. Harry is expecting to meet a sporty, athletic type.

Opening the door to a little-thing wearing glasses and a thick, soft jumper is not the image Harry had in mind.

Offering a hand, speaking with a distinctive voice far too soft, presumed Louis says “Harry?” 

Harry takes the hand for a brief “nice to meet ya” shake only to find that once the smaller hand is in his, he has a compelling urge to keep it. While their hands are touching, his eyes go to the diminutive one’s mouth. The shape of it so balanced, with pink lips petal perfect on a face that is both ruggedly boyish and something so pretty it is ridiculously out of place on a lad.

“Louis, welcome, come in, come in. I’ve put some water on for tea, but would you like to begin with a tour first?”

“Sure. And tea after sounds great, thank you.”

Harry points out the features of the main room, which is a large open floor plan where living and kitchen are contiguous. A counter sectioning the two areas is a high-bar type unit. It is missing bar stool chairs. Where a kitchen table and chairs would be is a starkly vacant space. Once Harry has pointed out things like the kitchen amenities and the living room comforts, Louis is laughing at him. Standing where a large reclining-type chair used to reside, adding to the obvious emptiness cause by Harry’s ex departure, Louis explains his laugh.

“Harry, your flat looks like you were robbed,” Louis looks around more with his search landing on the TV, “and _how old_ is that TV? Is it black and white?”

There is no malice in the way Louis shares his observations. Louis’ laugh is contagious. Harry laughs too. This might be the first time Harry has laughed, since he got the reality check of being left because his lover couldn’t take the risk of a relationship with a person who someday might end up in a wheelchair, or blind or whatever.

“Yeah, well my roommate moved out while I wasn’t here. We didn’t discuss who owned what.” Harry leaves out that he couldn't afford new stuff. He doesn’t want to sound like he is a risk to live with or has sketchy prospects for paying his share of bills.

Louis chimes in cheerfully. “Luckily for you, I have a really good flat screen. I like to play Fifa, Xbox, so electronics are a thing with me.”

Encouraged by how Louis is talking like he is envisioning this arrangement working for him on first impression is a good sign. 

“Great. Well, let me show you the rest of the place.”

Harry made sure the vacant bedroom and the bathroom are immaculately clean. On Louis’ profile he admitted he was messy. A quick peek at Harry’s room and the linen closet they would share reveals how Harry is polar opposite of this. His neatly folded linens are arranged by type and color. Colors arranged in a rainbow spectrum. 

Louis makes it a point to look out every window of each room with interest and a comment about the light. 

“...it’s sunniest here in the afternoons then.” Louis is saying as they return to the living-kitchen area.

“Yes, and your room gets more light from the morning sun, but if you have preference about bedrooms we can,”

“Oh, no no, don’t take it like that, Harry. I like the room. The flat, like it, love it, _love_ everything about it. Let’s have that tea and talk logistics.”

Harry can’t be happier and yet his wounded heart has him guarded about mentioning his flat mate was his lover. Besides, while Louis was looking things over in the flat, commenting always politely following the robbery joke, Harry couldn’t help but look Louis over.

Louis Tomlinson has to be the cutest little thing Harry has ever set eyes on. The jumper he wears covers far too much of him to make out a lot. Harry assumes that Louis must be a delicate thing, given the way the jumper hangs off him. His hand that Harry felt as he held it one, two, a few seconds too long is refined. With the jumper sleeves coming down over most of his hands, exposing only his fingers confirm his slightness of build. Harry watches the fingers with captivation when they move to touch anything in the flat. A light switch. A cabinet knob. Who knew fingers could be so fascinating. To think Harry was expecting to meet a muscled jock!

It does not go without notice that Louis has very firm, full thighs, and what appear to be strong, muscled calves. His legs are the one feature about him that say he is a laddy-lad. 

Next are Louis’ facial features. They are a paradox. Even behind the glasses that make Louis look so nerdy and bookish are the fullest set of lashes that could only be described as feminine. His complexion too has a girlish smoothness to it, like he wears makeup to maintain such an even skin tone with a hint of sun-kissed glow. The angularity of his jawline and his prominent cheekbones say masculine. The arch of his eyebrows suggest mischief. His tiny ears and near-button nose say pixie.

If Harry’s heart hadn’t been hollowed out, left a vacuum, he’d surely like to let it fill ever so slight with an urge to have some of what Louis stirs in him, even if just for a little while.

But it was not a dating service that matched he and Louis.

Louis probably isn’t even gay.

“Logistics? Yes,” Harry suppresses his mental wandering as he goes about making tea. “You saw the information about the rents and other expenses, so if that is okay without negotiations we can move on to when you’d like to move in, anything is fine with me. Classes are starting this week so the sooner the better, if you’d like my help.”

Turning to look at Louis as he has tea and service ready to offer, Harry almost thought he caught Louis checking him out. Admitting to himself he is vulnerable and kind of lost without his boyfriend at a time he needs support more than ever, he dismisses the hunch as hopeful delusion.

“I would like to move in as soon as possible. Maybe later today I could have a few things dropped by? I’ve been staying with various friends, trying not to bother any one of them too much, you know, sleeping around. You must know how it is, you are just off of a gap year according to your thesis on yourself...” 

There it is. A glimpse into a teasing nature again. Harry is sure he saw a slight eye-roll when he heard the hint of sarcastic wit. Louis is referencing the part of the roommate search form that was an open invitation to write about oneself. Louis is correct, in that section Harry blathered on and on. Feeling insecure, he may have said too much. He didn't say anything about MS. Or Ebola. His ex. Oh, but yes, he did ramble on as if he were writing a thesis. 

“and while I didn’t say this in my three sentence synopsis of me, I was on a gap year too.” Louis puts milk in his tea before he elaborates. “Panama and Nicaragua. I was hoping to go to Brazil but my Portuguese is shit. That is why I wasn’t expecting to need to secure a place ahead of the term. Hopefully, I can get better at Portuguese and go next year. You should know that this might be a one-year commitment and then I’m gone. I don't want to be stuck with something that I can’t get out of when I have the language skills. And yes, football is not only my hobby but my obsession… kinda picking places to go under the umbrella of my Uni program bit, basically because I am _really_ into fuootball...”

Was it Harry’s gutted heart messing with his mind or was it almost said? Louis seem on the verge of saying “fuootballers”.


	3. the friends

Surprisingly, it is barely a few hours after Harry invited Louis to share the flat that a delivery for Louis arrives. 

Two men from a local furniture store bring in a bed, its frame, and a large wardrobe for clothing. Harry is sure it is the delivery men once again when there is a fourth knock at the door. 

It is surprising to open the door to a handsome young man about Harry’s own age. The lad with short brown hair, soft-puppy-like brown eyes is certainly quite fit, evidenced by his physique. He wears a muscle shirt, muscles flexed, as he holds a large flat screen TV with far more ease than one should manage, given its bulky size as he smiles warmly. 

“Harry, hi. Louis asked me to bring a few of his things,” the lad says, taking initiative to walk the TV into the flat and place it on the floor near the existing old TV. Free from the cumbersome burden, puppy-eyes adds, “I’m Liam.” 

Liam shakes Harry’s hand before adding, “I have some more of Louis’ stuff to bring in, where would you like me to put things?” 

“I’ll show you his room!” Harry says excitedly. He really needs this fix, anyone to help with rents. 

Harry shows Liam to the sparse bedroom and when they return to the living room, they are no longer alone. A second lad is wrestling to bring a small work desk through the front door, which was left wide open. Liam rushes to assist. 

“Wanna help with that, Niall?”

Niall, this second very attractive friend of Louis’, speaks with a distinctly Irish accent as he accepts Liam’s help. With two of them moving the desk, it becomes quite simple. 

“Thanks mate, this is heavier than it looks!”

Liam and Niall return from toting the desk to Louis’ bedroom, introductions made, Harry likes Niall immediately; likes him in a like-him like him kind of way. They are a few minutes into small chat following introductions when a third mate of Louis’ comes along, struggling to carry what is a circular table the perfect size for seating four. 

“Zayn!” Niall and Liam call out as each eagerly helps the third strikingly handsome lad. 

“Zayn, this is Harry, Harry, Zayn.” Liam introducing Zayn accompanies him and Zayn putting the table in the vacant space left when Harry’s ex took furniture that he claimed as his. 

Harry’s recent breakup hasn’t watered down his interest in the company with other lads. His heartaches, but the attractiveness of his new flatmate’s friends has him amazed at the array of prospects as he shakes Zayn’s hand. 

A little introductory small talk is followed by working together bringing in what they each have stowed. Apparently, Louis left a little of him with each to not burden any one of them. It is not lost on Harry that they don’t object moving his belongings for him. 

“...everybody loves Louis,” Liam explains as they come in with load after load. Soon, Harry’s half-empty flat is filled in where gaps were. 

The last load brought in by Niall is a case of an Irish draught. Liam chides him for indulging on the pricey beer, saying Louis “won’t drink that, you know he isn't into trendy shit.” 

Making himself at home, Niall takes one, pops it open and sits on the couch, “Who says there will be any left for later?” 

It has been lonely coming home to a half-empty flat and a completely empty social life. The easiness about Niall’s presumptive settling in is nice. Harry grabs a beer and pulls out a bag of crisps to share. The healthy sweet potato of crisps garner a comment from Liam. 

”Ah, see you're a step ahead. Trendy crisps, good way to keep Louis from eating all your food.” 

Niall and Liam share a laugh about Harry’s new flatmate when Zayn returns with pizzas. They are very hot; a hint that Zayn ordered delivery while the mates were bringing in Louis’ possessions. 

Everyone helps themselves. Zayn finds plates independent of Harry’s guidance and Liam finds napkins. Louis’ mates are completely casual about making themselves at home. Over the course of a couple hours, eating and drinking is intermingled with the occasional activity of setting up the TV and gaming devices. How Louis has an effect on his friends where they eagerly _want_ to please him has intrigued Harry. 

As intrigued as he is, Harry suspects that they are sizing him up. Harry tries to work conversation around to Louis, but Liam, Niall and Zayn direct the subject back to Harry. As friendly as they are, they are also somewhat protective of Louis. Adorably so. He simply isn't comfortable with sharing history of the Ebola thing. Or the MS thing. And definitely not his sexual preference. 

With Niall taking the last slice Harry asks, “Aren’t we expecting Louis?” 

“Na, he is working until midnight isn’t he, Niall?” Liam answers in an asking sort of way. 

“Yep, I think he was planning on coming back to mine after to pack up the rest of his things, sleep over one last time.” 

“What kind of work?” 

“Stock boy. At least that is one of his jobs. He also does that tech-stuff part time on campus, total geek stuff. Numbers and code.” 

“Two jobs? And classes? That’s a lot! How does he keep all those balls in the air?” 

Zayn nearly spits some beer out with a snorting laugh at Harry’s comment in a rush to blurt out “Oh, but Louis is good with balls, _really good_.” 

This is clearly an inside joke. Suggestive. Harry blushes. The other three go silent after Zayn gets a stern look from Liam. After an exchange of glances without any explanation, they again redirect conversation away from Louis.

***

The following morning, Harry is in a rush to leave his flat. In this rush, he nearly runs into Louis having flung open the door. Louis was about to knock, despite holding a key in hand. 

“Hi,”

“Oops,”

Harry is embarrassed for the near mishap. The blush on Louis’ face signifies, for some reason, he is embarrassed too. For a second or two, Louis’ eyes stare at Harry’s mouth as he parts his lips like to anticipate a kiss. Words follow what is an awkward, shared pause. 

“Hey, wasn't sure if I should knock or just come in. We didn’t really talk about when I was officially starting to live here.”

Harry’s urgency to get to his appointment fades. He wants to welcome Louis rather than see the physician’s assistant who is going over his new meds. MS drugs have severe side effects. Harry is fortunate that he has no other contraindications but the drugs are not something to trifle with.

Harry steps back into his flat, _their flat_. “You’re welcome anytime, I think all your stuff is here,” Harry says, “Liam, Niall and Zayn came last night and put things where they thought you would want them. That TV is incredible, the table, chairs, everything. Oh, and a new bed and wardrobe were delivered too.”

Louis enters and drops his large, well-traveled duffle on the floor before adjusting his glasses and gently setting down a man-bag. In the fleeting second that the glasses weren't obscuring his eyes, Harry though the saw the ocean. Not any ocean, but that in the color of the Aegean Sea where the color is so vibrant it's hard to give it a name. Harry knows the coast of Greece well. His ex, a new MD in residency, had taken Harry to vacation with him in Greece many times.

Nick would always lavish Harry with all the finest. They would share the most luxurious accommodations, sail, dine on foods plucked fresh and prepared by the best chefs to their liking. Harry would like to forget about Greece, well, except for the intense color of the sea because that is the only way to describe color of Louis’ eyes.

Louis surveying the changes of the flat. “Our stuff looks good together, everything is blues and greens.”

“Yes, it almost looks like we planned it. And Louis, you weren’t kidding about the TV. Your mates took care to set it up before hanging out for a while. They seem really nice.”

The word “attractive” applies too, but Harry refrains from sharing that. Faced with his new roommate, he lets the curiosity about whether Niall likes men fade and tries to gaydar Louis. Louis has on a tracksuit with the oversized fit doing nothing to make him look less small. It’s possible that the fit even enhances his diminutive stature. The sporty nature to Louis’ attire hints straight. 

Louis smiles brightly at Harry. “They are great, aren’t they? Who did you like the most?”

Harry blushes. Guarded about admitting that he likes Niall, combined with the way Louis looks at him has Harry afraid to reveal so soon that he likes men. 

A warm and fuzzy feeling comes over Harry with Louis continuing to hold his gaze waiting for his answer. His state of paralysis lingers a few seconds too long leading to Louis stepping close to him, doing the odd thing of putting a hand on one cheek to trace Harry’s dimple. 

“Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to imply anything. The thing is when I got back to Niall’s last night he kept talking about these dimples of yours.” Louis turns away. “Told him I hadn’t noticed,” Louis laughs and adds, “he said that’s ‘cause I’m dork and I spend all me time looking at code and not seeing what is in the real world.”

“Where are you off to?” Louis adds.

Harry’s has a second bout of paralysis. He doesn't want to say he has a medical appointment. 

“Got a date.”

Louis has gone to the floor below the wall mounted TV to fiddle around with gaming components. Despite the best efforts of his mates, they must have not attached everything to Louis’ liking, given how he begins to change some connections. 

“In the morning? Lucky lady. I was hoping to get to know you a little more before I have to be at work. Computer lab opens at noon today. Mostly confused freshmen overwhelmed with the University system come needing help at the start of the term. I worked there the year before I went abroad, so I was able to get me old job back, fewer hours than I like, but still, it's a good job. Plus well, fun.” 

This idea of Louis as this tech-nerd doesn't fit with Louis’ looks. It’s a common stereotype, but far too many of the computer savvy population have too many extra pounds and very bad complexions. In the brief moment when they were so close, Louis’ light touch on Harry’s face, Harry spotted a few adorably placed freckles on one cheek; it was like a constellation marking and otherwise flawless, sun kissed complexion.

“I’ll be home in a couple hours if you wanna...” 

Harry forgets mid-thought what he is about to say. Louis on hands a knees has Harry confronted with an incredible art-of-the-gods, for lack of better definition. A girly bum has been hidden beneath an oversized jumper and hoodie. 

The shape of its pure bubble-butt perfection has Harry staring. Louis looks around at him with Harry stopped mid-sentence. Louis prone with his bum up, his chest low to the floor to see under the shelving on which game components rest has him positioned like a proper bottom, looking around for his daddy’s approval. It’s a coincidental, isn’t it, Harry questions as the filthy idea invades his mind. 

“Wanna what?” Louis asks innocently. 

Confronted with Louis’ ass waving in front of him, Harry is dumbstruck once more. Despite the fact that Louis really isn’t waving his ass, he is simply sorting out the cords of his various electronics. 

Harry’s brain finally snaps into function. 

“I’m sorry, realized that I am terribly late, see you later… whenever. Good luck fixing whatever, those cords, people’s computers.”

There. That was smooth. _Not._ What is Harry’s damage? Is this MS thing really monkeying with his neural synapsis this much? 

Think about Niall, think about Niall, think about Niall... Harry chants in silence. _Don’t make life complicated. Louis is only a roommate. Keep it that way._

*** 

A few days later Harry gets a text from Gemma asking how the first day of classes went. That subject is followed with another. _“and how are things with the new roommate? Are you getting to know each other a little better?”_

_“Not seeing him a whole lot. He works two jobs on top of taking classes. I really only know he is living here because he is very messy.”_

_“lol. your bane.”_

_“Seriously, Gemma. He left his duffle of clothes inside the front door the day he moved in, began digging clothes out of it never bothering to take it to his room. I finally put his things away for him last night. He doesn't return his bath towel-to-towel racks, just drops it on the floor. Not that we have eaten together yet, but he doesn't ever wash dishes.”_

_“Poor Harry.”_ Gemma sends a violin gif so cement her ‘play me a sad song’ attitude. Gemma follows with, _”Is he helping himself to all your healthy, full grain, 100% organic food?”_

_“No. I think he brings home food from the deli. I find wrappers and containers laying around. Pretty sure he doesn't know what a bin is!”_

_“A few days of living together and all you can report is that he is a messy?”_

_“That and he likes football.”_

_“Didn't you say he is a computer nerd?”_

_“His room has one wall of posters of football jocks, more than one are the same Serbian player. Oddly, in contrast to the shrine of posters, the other three walls are plain except for fairy lights he strung up near the ceiling.”_

_“Cute. Love to come to town to see you, meet the nerdy football fan. Let me know when works. xox~g”_

Harry looks up from his phone and, from where he is sat waiting to see the physician's assistant for another MS drug follow up appointment, he is met with the one sight he doesn’t need to witness. Coming down the hall in white coats with clipboards in hand are two med students, male, attractive, flanking Harry’s ex. The newly anointed doctor Grimshaw appears to have a pair of fans working along his side. Harry is too attuned to Nick’s charm to mistake how he radiates charisma when he is in the presence of attractive younger men. 

Nick stops when he sees Harry. He says something to the med students, which has them proceeding on without him. Nick waits until the two have passed the small waiting area for neurology where Harry is sat before approaching Harry. The smile he had when walking with med students he exchanges with an emotionally-walled off expression. 

“Harry.” 

“Nick.” 

Nick looks around to see if anyone is watching. The busy staff neurology ward has no interest in them. Nick sits a distance that is telling that he is close enough to speak quietly and far enough to establish distance. Physically and emotionally. 

“How are you? You look good.” 

“How am I? I look good? Like what? I look good for nearly dying! Or discovering I have MS or being dumped without a word from my asswit boyfriend?” 

Harry’s voice raised a bit too much for Nick. His scan of the surroundings is to ensure they are still unnoticed after Harry’s lashing. Harry doesn’t give a shit. He throws out more of his pain as he gives zero fucks who hears or sees this. 

“Was it the second that you learned I had the diagnosis that you started packing or did you think about it for a minute or two before deciding you are only in it for the good times? The idea of me being blind or in a wheelchair was too much for the compassionate Dr. Grimshaw? The idea that I could be a drooling mess, or impotent so repulsive to you _doctor_!” 

Nick says “ _Harry _” in that way that confirms Harry rubbed the burn into Nick with the precise heat of his anger that Nick deserves.__

____

Harry waits for some plausible defense. Under this stress, he feels it; a wash on numbness comes over his body. Feeling in his hands and feet fades. He knows both feet are on the floor, his hands resting on the chairs armrest but he doesn't have a tactile awareness of his contact with the floor or the chair. He wants Nick to break. To cry. Show any emotion for him. Fucksake, Nick is a doctor! Shouldn’t compassion be a requirement? It is in their oath! 

____

Nick leans toward Harry and pats his knee. The pat Harry doesn’t feel like a normal touch. It was more like the contact was made with a thick blanket dampening the sensation. This is clearly an emotional overrun of Harry’s nerves, making his body dampen tactile responses. 

____

Nick’s words sound to Harry as if he is listening to Nick from under water, because he is so charged with the stress of emotional pain. “Don’t make it like that, Harry. It was fun while it lasted. It has nothing to do with the diagnosis. Can we do this somewhere else? Another time? I have people waiting on me.” 

____

*** 

____

That was it. Do it somewhere else, another time. No emotion. Nick didn’t even wait for the answer to the question of how he is doing. Harry would like to tell Nick his fears. 

____

Devastated by their encounter, Harry walks from the medical complex toward campus, too emotionally wrought to recall the important things that he and the PA discussed. He can call her about that anytime, Rosa said, and so without a thought of where he should be, which is in class, he walks a random path across main campus. 

____

Sensation returning in his feet and, by putting one foot aimlessly after the other, he has ended up at the campus library and the entrance closest to the computer services lab where Louis works. Heartache forcing him to need any human contact with anyone who has half a heart, Harry enters the building and walks along the corridor where glass walls line one side of the computer lab. 

____

The lab is packed. Every computer station is in use. Tables are filled with students who have brought their own laptops and devices connecting through the wireless system. Many student technicians are on hand among mayhem of troubled students. The typical technicians are what Harry expects: male, overweight, abysmal completions. All except two. One technician is a very attractive, thin, young woman with long brown hair. The other odd one out is Louis. Louis and the woman are talking with each other between working with students. It strikes Harry how much Louis and the female tech appears to be having great fun working together. Louis looks to finish helping the student he was with. Other students sat near him, looking for his attention but Harry hears Louis ask who is number fifty-three. 

____

Harry hasn't got a computer issue, a heart thing plagues him, but he is compelled to step in the lab. The number he pulls is 96. Of course, it would be 96, twin to 69. 

____

Harry takes a seat where a computer becomes available as another student leaves. A rather unfortunate looking tech smiles at him as the tech comes to help number fifty-four who is sat next to Harry. “We are having waits of 45 minutes to an hour, so if that conflicts with a class you can make an appointment. We book appointments between the hours of 5 to 8.” 

____

“Oh thanks, does that mean I can request a specific tech?” 

____

Question asked, Harry looks over at Louis. The female technician is touching Louis’ arm. The touch is unnecessary and unrelated to her task at hand of helping a student stationed next to the student Louis is helping. Louis is animatedly joking with her while working with Number Fifty-three. Fifty-three and the pretty tech are both captivated by Louis. It’s obvious that Louis is extremely popular in this domain of tech nerds. 

____

The technician who greeted Harry s very astute. He looks at what has Harry’s interest. 

____

“Yes, you can request Louis. He is _very_ popular. He and Eleanor both are, couple of beauty and brains, so you might have to wait longer to get help from him. Sign-up sheets are on the wall over there. Look for the one for Louis and pick a slot. He will call you confirming the time.” 

____

Harry did not need to hear the deflating use of the word “couple”. 

____

Harry abandons the station he was sat at without signing up for an appointment. He is about to exit the lab when Louis sees him. Mid-laugh, this beautiful girl is touching his arm to call his attention to her, yet Louis stays with returning Harry’s look. 

____

His head tilts. 

____

His eyebrows raise as he scrunches his face to question seeing Harry. 

____

His adorably, cute habit of subconsciously adjusting his glasses follows. 

____

Louis pristinely pink lips mouth a silent “What?” 

____

Harry gets the weirdest feeling surge in his body. It is not one of those MS sensations. Harry exits embarrassed with the feelings that permeate him.

____

____

____


	4. curly legs

It has been a couple of weeks since Louis moved in. Having a roommate is helpful for the rents, but it hasn’t alleviated Harry’s feeling of rejection and loneliness. 

Louis is frequently at work if not in class. The most Harry has learned about his roommate is by walking past his open bedroom door on the rare occasions they are both home. In a rare glimpse of Louis, when home, he is usually at his computer, often with headphones on, in conversation with someone as he works at his desk. 

Far too infrequently Louis might be home and gaming in their living room. Again, Louis usually wears headphones and is in conversation with fellow gamers as if they are sharing strategies. Often Louis is talking to them in Spanish. Harry considers the idea that Louis maintains strong ties to friends overseas. 

In striking contrast, Harry’s situation among his mates, most of whom were friends with Nick too, is the polar opposite. 

Polar, as in very cold. Harry reaches out to them frequently, usually leaving messages that go unanswered. Nick took more than furniture when he left Harry’s life. 

In this particular morning, Harry has the misfortune of being at the medical complex when, once again, Dr. Grimshaw does his rounds with a swarm of cooing students at his sides. Nick passes where Harry is sitting in the neurology waiting area without even a nod at Harry’s direction. 

What was the last thing Nick said to Harry before he left for Africa? 

Something sappy like Nick how he would “count every second until he and Harry could be together again”. Nick claimed that he wanted “to take their relationship to the next level”, going so far as to infer a marriage proposal was in the works once Harry returned and Nick assumed his residency. 

Angered by Nick’s shun, Harry texts Gemma as he waits. 

_“Asswit just passed me. A caudrey of med students creaming in their jeans for him, eyes wide, lips wet… if only they knew! Meanwhile, none of our old mates calls me back. I heard the scuttlebutt is that I not only contracted Ebola, but that I contracted HIV which made me weaponize some variant of it, apparently, I am toxic. You won’t believe this part... they even have a nic-name for me, like ‘typhoid mary’...”_

Heavy with pain, Harry follows his first text before Gemma can reply adding, _“...maybe I should drop out, take a gap year.”_

He follows _“except I couldn’t do that to Louis, stick him with the rents, he’s working two jobs as is.”_

_“Harry, I never liked Nick. Good people don’t treat their mates like that.”_ Gemma follows with, _“Besides you just came off a year abroad. You need to get out more, meet new people. What about Louis’ mates? They seem lovely from what you’ve described.”_

_“Thing is Louis is always working or in class. His mates haven’t been around since he moved in.”_

_“Can’t always be working. Plan a house party… an official ‘welcome the new roomy thing’. Have Louis invite all the guests.”_

_“Good idea. I kinda like one of his mates, Niall, the Irish lad, not sure if he’s available though.”_

_“Party. Keg, pizza. Make those fancy little cakes you like to bake. If this Niall is available, your baking gotta do the trick.”_ ***

Harry was going out to a club when Louis came home from two long shifts back to back. The schedule that Louis works is unpredictable; he looks tired when he comes into the flat. It is a mystery how Louis manages two jobs and keeps up with his course work. 

Harry wonders if Louis realizes that he has gone by the computer lab a few times since Louis moved in because he was lonely. For some reason he can’t explain, it has become insufferable to see Eleanor, or Elk, as Harry secretly calls her, always so cozy with Louis. 

Then there is the grocery where Louis works, “Smitties”, a family-owned store not far from campus. Harry has gone there too, feeling compelled by what he can’t explain. While there is no Elk at Smitties, on the occasional times Harry has seen Louis at the store he is always bantering with fellow employees, messing around, making stocking into some kind of a game. It’s a wonder how he keeps his job, Harry thinks. 

Upon discovering that Louis plans to stay home on a Saturday night after his double shifts, Harry abandons his plan to go to a club when he is about halfway there. He decides instead to return home and go to the laundry, hopeful for a chance at developing a friendship with the likable and popular flat mate. 

Taking his first of several loads, he walks past Louis’ slightly open door, intending to let Louis know that he changed his mind. 

The lights are off in Louis' room, except for the fairy lights giving his room a soft, pleasing ambiance. It sounds to Harry like Louis is setting up doing facetime via computer. This being a thing Louis does quite frequently when talking to friends overseas. Harry decides to wait until he gets a second load into a washing machine. 

The decor of Louis’ room has been a curiosity. The fairy lights strung high at the intersection of walls and ceiling are one thing. Another thing is how he has most of his belongings crowded along the one wall. 

A peek in Louis’ room from the hall reveals a very impersonal space. In view there is a bed, a couple bedside tables and lamps, a wardrobe for clothing to one side of the bed. Only when one steps into the room do they see Louis’ desk, crowded with his large computer monitor, a laptop, assorted and other electronics including a camera mounted on a tripod. There are stacks of books laying on the floor, many more haphazardly placed on two small bookshelves. This one wall is also the only one with art, which in Louis’ case, consists exclusively of posters of fit football players. 

Harry has wondered many times if Louis did this so that his constant state of messy disarray is only visible from within the room. He also assumes it could be that Louis has plans to go to Brazil, so keeping things impersonal and impermanent is an advantage. 

On Harry’s second time passing Louis’ ajar door, the sounds from within the room stop him from calling out.

Soft moans are mixed with some murmured words and some distinctive other non-verbal noises. It is the noise that Harry knows from experience, being like most other college males. This is the sound of one taking things into their own hands. 

Harry should politely hurry past the door quietly, but he can’t. Harry peers in to see Louis nude, laying on top of his bed covers. His legs are parted and bent, knees up with feet flat on the bed. The vantage point allows Harry to see Louis’ slicked body, erection in hand as he wanks his cock. Harry is surprised to discover Louis is shaved, although in some athletic circles this might be a common thing, but Louis has never professed to be much of a footy, giving the impression that he is more a fan than a player. 

And yet there he is. Shaved. Slicked with lube. Sprawled out on his bed and enjoying himself. 

He sounds needy. “Oh, I’m so close, so close, mmm, wanna come… wanna... oh so close...” The needy sounds fall off as his orgasm starts, his shouts loud, signifying his thinking that he is alone. 

Harry watches as the pulsing ropes of come shoot up and come back down to spatter him. Before Louis completely finishes, Harry withdrawals quietly. 

*** 

Harry isn't sure that using liquid laundry detergent to slick his cock was the brightest idea, but it was only a hand job he was doing, so not like the soap was used internally. He had to do something after what he witnessed. Thankfully, very few residents of the building use the laundry machines on a Saturday night, so while his setting lacked the pleasing soft lighting of Louis’ masturbation setting, his outcome was the same. 

He returns a couple hours later with a stack of clean, folded laundry. Louis looks to have showered. For the first time, he has traded wearing his typical oversized hoodie for baggy shorts and a tee shirt with the sleeves and original neckline cut out. He is sat at the couch, headphones on, gaming and Harry’s sudden appearance is startling. 

“Oh hey, Harry?” He glances at the basket of clothing Harry holds while continuing to play his game. “Clean laundry night at the club?” He asks with a bemused smirk. 

Harry laughs at the comment. “Obviously no. I got halfway to the club before I remembered I started laundry earlier and still had stuff in the dryers.” 

It's a relief that Louis accepts the lie. He speaks to the other players who are doing the same game somewhere else in the world, “Mates, I’m out, me roommate is back and we haven't hung out much.”

Louis moves on the couch to a less TV-focused position, as if to invite Harry to sit. Pulling his feet up to the cushion, he sits turned to face where he had indicated Harry should sit. His arms going around his bent legs, has Harry’s attention. They are lithe and shapely. The hands, which are usually covered except for a couple inches of exposed fingers, are delicate. 

Harry sits suppressing a blush, a thing he can’t explain, triggered by the uncharacteristic bareness of Louis’ skin. The bareness has Harry revisiting memory of the sight of Louis wanking himself off.

Awkwardly, Harry initiates a safe conversation. “What game was that?”

“Destiny. You know, Harry, I’ve noticed that you haven’t signed in on any games. If you like I can show you, help you start.”

Gushing a little with Louis undivided attention, Harry rapidly accepts the offer, “I’d like that very much, though I don’t know how any of the games are played.”

“I guessed that too. We haven't seen much of each other, but when you came by the computer lab a while back I guessed you weren't as tech-savvy as some.” Louis shifts again to move his feet back to the floor as he slides closer to Harry and picks up the controller he was operating the game with. “But if you ever need any computer help just ask me, you don’t need to go there and wait in that crowded lab. The demand for help hasn’t slowed down much yet. Usually by midterms there is no waiting until right before finals when there is a new rush.”

Louis toggles through the game offerings, describing briefly to Harry what each is about, adding whether he likes the game or not. Most games he doesn't like he gives a qualifier why they aren’t as good. Fortunately, for Harry, with paging through the list of games Louis doesn't seem to notice that Harry is more focused on him than the screen.

Harry throws out a question to seem interested, “What about that Raid Shadow Legends game?”

”Total shit.” Louis quips, not aware of Harry’s split attention. 

Harry’s appreciation of Louis’ arms is followed by studying Louis’ shoulder and his exposed collarbones. For a lad, his are indescribably alluring. Prominent. Architectural. Surely proper inspection of their sculpted perfection has to be measured by the lingering work of a tongue...

This idea popping into his mind has Harry jumping up, startled by how his own thoughts drifted into some fantasy. 

Needing an excuse for this erratic change of demeanor, he blurts out, “Oops, almost forgot. I have another load of clothes still drying downstairs. Hold on a sec, I should get them.”

Louis gives Harry’s leap to action barely any thought. He signs into the game he was showing Harry and fiddles with something about his character, from what Harry can tell. 

Harry wants to avoid coming off as odd so he makes an assumption. “Do you have any laundry you need tossed in the washers? I could start some for you. No one does laundry on Saturday night; all the machines are probably still free.”

Louis looks at Harry like he is a little surprised. “Seriously? That would be awesome. I think I am down to me last clean pair of jeans. Thanks.”

Louis doesn't stop his game-related exploration as he adds “Me hamper is in me closet, thanks.”

Harry finds that indeed Louis has a laundry hamper in his bedroom closet. There is nothing in it, other than one sock. Literally one sock, not even a matched pair. Around the basket, shoved in so the closet door can be shut, is all Louis’ other dirty clothes. 

Harry scoops up what should be a full load to wash filling the hamper. Carrying it through the living room. Louis thanks him without his eyes leaving the screen. 

Once in the tenant’s laundry room, Harry begins to fill a washer with Louis’ clothing. He drops a few items as he does this. One piece he picks up he thinks is a rag or something, but upon holding it up, he realizes that the tattered looking thing is actually a shirt. The intentional, shredded accents give the wearer a look like they _were attacked by a bear._

***

Back up at his flat, Harry has an idea of how he might casually ask Louis about the shirt or the club where Harry saw just such a shirt worn by a lad grinding on his dance partner at a club popular among the University crowd.

Louis is talking on the phone. Quite quickly, Harry realizes the friend has all of Louis’ attention. From the one side of the conversation, it is clear this friend has had a traumatic experience, Louis is comforting him. Their call ends with Louis offering his condolences about what sounds like the passing of his friend’s nanna. 

“Harry, thanks again. How about we just pick something and get you playing?”

“Sure,” Harry says, seeing how Louis looks a little shaken. “I’d like that.” Harry puts his stack of neatly folded clothes down. “What do you recommend?”

This gets a smile from Louis. “A lot of people start with Minecraft, but why don't we try...” he smiles at Harry looking him up and down, “you seem to like fashion, more than a future hospital administrator would be inclined. How about Destiny take your gaming-virginity? It has the best options for costuming your player. But I should warn you, it is all shooting things.”

Louis reengages with educating Harry about the game he selects, Destiny, and goes to character design. He shows Harry how to do some personalization, clearly enjoys taking Harry through this so much that he doesn't notice Harry is checking him out. 

Harry gets lost in appreciation of how small and adorable the curvature of Louis' ear is, when he stumbles upon the irony of Louis in profile. His defined jawline is ruggedly handsome in contrast to his more feminine, pretty features. From the side it is easy to see how Louis’ thick lashes are, so long that they frequently brush the inside of his rectangular-shaped eyeglasses. 

Louis briefly looking Harry’s way diverted his examination from Louis’ flawless facial structure. When Louis looks back at the flat screen, Harry moves to looking at the side of Louis’ torso, where very little of the original shirt fabric remains, having been cut away. This affords Harry the sight of Louis’ thin ribcage. An idea occurs to Harry that if Louis was sat on one’s cock, one’s fingers could find laying in the contours of these ribs quite stimulating. 

A smallish bottom who could infuse the feeling of being easy to manhandle is a boom to the ego of a self-doubting top. 

Thanks to Nick, ‘self-doubting’ is how Harry would describe himself. If he were honest, he didn’t really have any interest in going to the club. Putting Louis’ laundry in the wash, a shirt reminding him of the night weeks ago when he saw this gay couple, he falters but finds the courage. 

“Louis, you're always busy, but wanna plan to do something like go clubbing or have a party, here, invite some mates to your new place?”

“Mmm, what about this one, this looks Harry Styles, and sure.” Louis says about a character he is creating for Harry that he has named “Curly Legs”. Louis adds, “Party sounds nice. Not really into clubbing. Kinda more into a small pub, greasy food on Sunday morning.”

The way Harry’s character is set up is very tuned to Harry’s fantasy image of himself if he were animated. “I like that, that’s great. Now what? And did you just make my name ‘Curly Legs’?”

Handing Harry the controller and fitting his headphones on Harry’s head, Louis says, “You are going to play. And yes.”

“Okay, but I meant what now about the party. You work so much. Would be best for you to pick a date.” Harry gets distracted because Curly Legs gets killed. 

Louis is sent into hysterics.

“God, you’re awful, oh wait, ah! Dead again.” 

Louis laughing at him for being so cluelessly dreadful has the strangest effect on Harry. He is deplorably bad, keeps getting killed before Louis can direct him and yet somehow this stupid game, Louis laughing, lightens the hurt that has been consuming Harry. 

***

It’s after two AM when they stop gaming to get Louis laundry. Louis fished out a second controller, got a different headphone set from his room so they could play together once he got Harry past the dying immediately stage. Other gamers would try to join in and Louis would tell Harry who was ‘no’ and who was ‘eventually’. Many people wanted to play with Louis signed for the game. 

No surprise.

Louis would decline many by telling them he was training a new player. There were some he was less open with. This tells Harry Louis knows the players in this game world well. It was also endearing how his character is protective about Harry‘s. 

It was not lost on Harry how Louis made sure to not reveal anything about who this new gamer is. 

When Harry made rookie mistakes; Louis was kind in how he set him straight. Like when Harry assumed one player was a she. The character's name was a girl-sort of name. The character played was in a female body, but Louis corrected Harry on making assumptions.

“Don’t assume anything based on appearances or labels. In these games, the whole spectrum is represented. Shakira in the game world could be a fan of the singer Shakira, gender not the issue. Or Shakira could be some 300-pound bloke living in Chicago who likes pretend to be a babe to fuck with people. You never know. This is a great place for people to express themselves without the identity assigned to them at birth. Be cautious in who you get to know. With a face like yours, I could see you really having trouble if the real Harry Styles was revealed. Pseudonyms only, Curly Legs.”

Walking down to the laundry together, Harry realizes he let his whole evening with the roommate he barely knows go to waste on gaming. He still doesn’t know anything about Louis, not really. Well, accept Louis thinks Shakira is a babe. 

Following Louis to get the laundry is Harry’s way of maximizing every minute together. This he admits. “You know, Louis, it has been weeks and I still don’t know you.” 

Louis pauses at the door to the facility, where he puts a hand on Harry’s face for a second to softly trace a dimple with the back of an index finger. “How sweet, Harry. There isn't much to know that you don't know already. Tech nerd. Like to game. Love football. Don’t like to do me own laundry.”

***

Mid-morning Harry wakes. Passing Louis’ slightly ajar door, he sees Louis in bed. In bed, this time sleeping under his covers, no more of that other stuff.

In addition to the Shakira-is-a-babe thing, Harry learned that Louis likes Sunday morning pub fare. Harry goes to their kitchen and gets out the makings of the greasiest, least-healthy kind of breakfast he can master. The bacon is Louis’. The sausages too. The organic free-range eggs are Harry’s. The soy cheese and the whole grain bread are also Harry’s. He hopes to make a blended breakfast; not too unhealthy and not too healthy. Fortunately, they both seem to like the same type of jam so there is that.

And tea! Harry knows Doncaster-boy likes his blend to be from Yorkshire, so Yorkshire it is.

Their flat is infused with the aroma of breakfast and the toast is just perfected when Louis appears. He looks sleepy as he enters, wearing an oversized hoodie and the baggy shorts from the night before. It must have been a reluctant process leaving a warm bed driven by the aromas of breakfast because Louis also has beanie on. He looks like something to be cuddled. Soft, sleepy and warm. 

Harry immediately hands him some tea. Their fingertips touch in the exchange and Louis gives him a warm smile, sipping a small taste before saying, “Mmm, good morning, me stomach is rumbling, this smells so good.” 

“Hope you don’t mind that half of the breakfast is using your food? I've never seen you cook. Since this will be our first time eating together, wanted to make a feast.” 

“I see that! I hate to cook. Me mum makes me keep food stocked to try to force me, but if you hadn't used the meats, I would be tossing them in the bin when they expire. So thank you, Curly. You like to cook, don’t you? I come home sometimes when you have been cooking or baking and the flat smells amazing, like home.” 

“I do, yes, but mostly I like to cook for others. It’s more fun that way. Cooking for myself is mostly for the sake of eating healthier. I try to take care of my body.” 

Sipping tea between efforts to place the plates of food on their table, Louis looks over his eyeglasses as he looks up and down Harry’s body. Harry gets a flash of that cerulean color before Louis pushes his glasses up, “I’d say you do a good job of that. I can’t believe some of the rubbish you have around to snack on, like dried chickpeas? How do you eat that?” 

Harry laughs. “It’s not bad at all, don’t knock it until you try it. Chickpeas are a good source of protein and besides they are seasoned so they have a nice flavor.” 

Louis pours them both more tea and takes his first piece of bacon. Harry notes he goes for a crispier piece. “Well, Styles, your chickpeas are safe with me. Not touching them. If I am gonna put it in me mouth it has got to be good.” 

*** 

It was a slow grazing through the ample platters of food Harry made. They had plenty left over for later with Louis indicating that he would use up the leftover meats for breakfasts during the week. What they each prefer to eat was half of the content of their conversation. 

The other half was about families, childhood, courses and career paths. 

By the time they are cleaning up, the first time Harry is aware Louis has cleaned anything since moving in, Harry is aware that Louis is not wealthy like it seemed when some new furniture was delivered. If anything, he might just be making his expenses. With a large family, four sisters (all younger), he plays the role of dutiful son and devoted older brother. He adores his family and, during their slow-paced breakfast, Harry feels like he came to know the Tomlinson’s. Indeed, Louis talked more about them than he did about himself. 

Harry almost revealed what he fears sharing most about himself, the MS thing, when Louis talked about his mother’s work as a nurse. It was the perfect opening as Louis portrayed his mum as a deeply compassionate and medically savvy minded person. 

Somehow, Harry could not risk exposing himself. 

The other secret, his sexual preference, he withheld because Louis gave him butterflies a couple times when he caught a glimpse to those eyes unobstructed by glasses if he looked over them. Other times, Harry drifted into fixation on how politely Louis eats his food. He would take small bites, frequently covering his mouth as he chewed, always chewing with his mouth shut. Harry also discovered that Louis has an adorable little habit of laughing with his hand going in front of his mouth, back of hand to his lips, fingers cupped. It is such a cute thing that Harry lets some of his silly side show, if only to get Louis do the cute little behavior. 

Berating himself in silence for finding Louis so alluring, Harry begins to think of Niall for wanting to keep his flatmate in the not of sexual interest category. Besides, Louis has Elk. 

They are just finishing the dishes, Harry putting his numerous rings back on, “About that party, I’m guessing you would invite Liam, Zayn, Niall...” 

Did the mere mention of Niall cause Harry’s hands to shake and his favorite ring fall? Is this occasional tremble an MS thing? 

Whatever the cause is, the ring rolls around a few seconds before going under the heavy refrigerator, out of reach. 

“Damn, it’s my favorite ring.” 

Louis goes to the floor at Harry’s feet. “Hand me that flashlight.” 

Harry retrieves the flashlight Louis refers to from the kitchen drawer that is full of an assortment of incidental household essentials. He turns back to Louis with his bum up, his face pressing to the floor. 

Harry’s throat goes dry. He can’t swallow, confronted with this sight. How does a lad end up with an ass like that? 

Louis looks back at him, “Harry, the flashlight?” 

Hoping he didn’t look like he was staring at Louis’ arse, he brings Louis the flashlight. 

“I see it, it's not that far under. How about a really flat spatula? Don’t you have that wooded one that isn't too thick or curved? Give me that one. I think I can knock it out from under here.” 

Once again, after retrieving the right tool for Louis, Harry has turned back to Louis face down, bum up and it is about too much. 

Why would the gods waste an ass like this on a straight bloke? 

Without causing Louis to question his delay, Harry gives Louis the spatula and steps back to admire. Louis has to wobble a bit. This makes his bum wiggle. That throat dryness is replaced by mouthwatering. 

When Louis gives the ring a wack with the spatula, it comes spinning out. Harry wasn’t ready for the show to end. It is Louis who scrambles on the floor to catch it. 

“There we go, ring recovered!” 

Louis is still on the floor, on his knees at Harry’s feet, smiling up at Harry. What Harry would do if he could keep Louis on his knees like this for even a short while?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon in Chapter Five:
> 
> Was it the way Louis was on his knees, sliding Harry’s favorite ring on Harry’s finger that makes everything around Harry seem to spin? 
> 
> Is it the recognition that Nick was to do this, propose. Instead Nick dumped Harry. Worse yet, Nock spun rumors among their friends. 
> 
> And here is Harry’s roommate... Louis, straight, has a girlfriend. Probably a Shakira fan. He looks up at Harry from his place on the floor. The eyes unshielded by the nerdy glasses in this angle show compassion and reveal their beautiful pools of color. Harry hasn't experienced the emotion of compassion seemingly forever out side of with his family or his medical providers.


	5. droplets of sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

***

Was it the way Louis was on his knees, sliding Harry’s favorite ring on Harry’s finger that makes everything spin? 

Or is it the recognition that Nick was to do that. Instead he dumped Harry. Worse yet spun destructive rumors. 

And here is Louis, straight, has a girlfriend, probable Shakira fan, his eyes look over the top of his nerdy glasses. Unshielded by this angle they show compassion in their beautiful pools of color. Harry hasn't experienced the emotion of compassion seemingly forever out side of with his family or his medical providers. 

That’s all it was? 

The compassion Louis showed him explains this head-spinning, butterflies in his chest feeling? 

Maybe those sensations explain why Harry chances a violation of roommate boundaries after Louis leaves to go stock at Smithies. 

Harry takes the opportunity to go to Louis’ room. He convinces himself that he is only going to gather more of clothing from the closet floor to help Louis get caught up on his laundry. For some reason Harry sits on Louis bed and opens Louis’ bedside drawer. The drawer is crammed full in typical messy Louis-fashion. 

Contents? Lube. Lots of Lube.

Vibrators.Three, to be exact. 

Clamps and nob-handled feathers for nipple stimulation.

Cock rings. 

A delicate chain and a pair of silky ropes, each a couple feet long.

Harry closes the drawer.

With it closed he realizes that in his hand he holds a strawberry-watermelon flavored tube of lube he doesn’t recall taking out.

He should not but he lays down in the center of his roomate’s bed. He can smell the scent of Louis. He unfastens his pants, frees himself. Breathing in the scent he closes his eyes and forms a picture. 

Harry’s cock had already firmed up by discovering the trove in Louis’ bedside drawer. Using some lube Harry begins to slather his length. The act fuels a spawning erection to grow quickly. 

_Spawning_. 

A word Louis used a lot in the game they played the night before, spawning an enemy being a bad thing. The way Louis annunciates words with his Doncaster dialect plays over in Harry’s mind. It drowns out the voice of his conscious that tells him it is a total violation to wank off while sprawled in the middle of his roommate’s bed and thinking of the roommate, pretty eyes or not.

The question of what would happen if Louis walked in only makes Harry works harder to pleasure himself. His huge cock is rigid and hot in his hand from the friction of his rapidly-paced stokes.

Would the playful Louis be shocked or would he tease Harry relentlessly like he does in the games with his fellow gamers?

Would Louis be caught surprised, perhaps impressed as most are, by Harry’s exceptionally big dick?

Could the sight of Harry’s endowment be enticing? Straight or not, Louis might be tempted as others have, to _go a little gay_ for Harry.

What if Louis risked to inch closer and upon startling Harry, Harry accidentally knocked off those nerdy glasses and this was cause for Harry to look directly into those blue eyes? The penetrating stare holds Louis as if it were that chain Louis keeps in his bedside drawer. It becomes a dare between them neither could break. 

Would Louis be trapped by Harry keeping him so metaphorically tethered as Harry bites his lip admitting he is close, admits that he is gonna come.

Louis lets out an admission after he licks his lips that he’d like to see Harry do that, _take care of himself._

Lost in this fantasy Harry sprays himself and much of the bed cover around him with ropes of cum.

His toying with the idea that his not-available roomy would watch him wank off was effective. _Too effective._

“Fuck Styles!” Harry curses himself as he realizes his laundry chore now includes doing Louis’ bedding. Why didn't he fantasize about Niall instead?

***

Friday night Harry is preparing anything in advance that he can for their party on Saturday while Louis works at Smithies. He is excited that Gemma will finally meet Louis. He realizes it is odd that he keeps telling his sister that Niall is his obsession but he is always thinking about Louis. 

The guest list includes Zayn, Liam, and of course Niall. Also Louis has invited coworkers from the computer lab and Smithies. Unfortunately Elk is one of the confirmed attendees.

By the time Harry has made all the preparations he can do a day ahead he is watching the clock hoping Louis will be home soon _to play games_ but he falls asleep on the couch.

It’s Saturday morning sunshine hitting that wakes him. A blanket covering him is the only sign Louis had come home other than hand-written a note. 

_”Will see you later and thanks for everything sleepyhead!”_

The renaissance act of leaving Harry little hand-written notes is something Louis has been doing since the prior weekend when Louis discovered that Harry had done all his laundry including his bedding. Naturally Louis didn't know why Harry had to wash the bedding, but in any case, these little notes are like droplets of sunshine because Louis has a very distinctive signature that includes a smiley face. Having so few friends from his old life these droplets feed Harry’s soul.

....

Harry is putting the finishing touches on everything for the party, feeling a little debutant and giddy for some reason but worried about the time.

Louis barely gets home before their guests will begin to arrive. 

Louis practically falls through their door in his rush, “Stocking during shopping hours is always a ball-buster, barely got me shelves finished before me shift was over.” Louis explains as he scurries to the bathroom. 

Harry calls a question after him, “I guess customers like to ask for help so it takes longer?”

Louis who is out of sight in the bathroom, the door still open, shower calls back, “Yes, but it was weird, you know ever since that virus that broke out in China, impacting Italy, now we have people rushing to the store to buy up certain things. It is sort of crazy. Some items are off the shelf as soon as they are stocked.”

Harry hears the water running. He walks closer to the open bathroom door. 

On the floor is the pile of clothing that Louis stripped off.

“What kind of products?” 

This is a question Harry isn’t all that curious about. His _real_ curiosity is about the form that will be visible in silhouette given their shower curtain is just translucent enough to reveal an outline of one who is in the shower. 

“Cleaning products, mostly, and alcohol, sports drinks.”

One look at the curvy shape through the opac curtain has Harry dry-throated. _Damn his roommate..._

“What kind of alcohol? Liquor, beer ...wine?”

Louis turns in the shower like he is finishing rinsing off. This affords Harry the sight of how curvaceous a specimen Louis is. He is something of a paradox. He is a boy with a body that could be called girlish for how his tiny waist sets off his bum.

The water is turns off as Louis laughs, “No, you idiot, the rubbing alcohol kind!” 

Louis pulls the curtain back ever so slight and before Harry can turn away as a foot, a calf, a thigh have Harry’s notice.

Harry spins around. 

It seems in Louis’ haste that he left his towel hanging out of reach. Sooner or later this was bound to happen. Roommates naked. Harry wasn’t prepared for Louis to be so...

Nerdy-boy Louis has muscular calves and thighs. This combined with a shapeliness made by the combination of a big butt and a small waist...and he is uncluttered by womanly breasts which Harry has no use for... 

Not to mention that in Harry’s “accidental sighting” it appears the playground that is Louis’ staff and berries is kept well groomed. 

Harry keeps stood with his back against the wall of the hall so he is facing away from the open door. Louis doesn’t seem too concerned about Harry’s whereabouts. Harry can tell without looking that Louis is standing on the bath mat, running the towel over his body, maybe taking care to run the towel through his arse crack, the shadow image on having confirmed that nerdy-Louis has an impressive bubble butt.

Louis comes out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his body. It takes all Harry’s control to divert his eyes from looking at Louis’ tiny nipples. 

“Harry? Are you okay? You look strange.” 

“Um, well...I think I’m nervous. Meeting your friends.” 

Louis puts a hand on the side of Harry’s face. It is a soft touch, a warm hand. Harry’s nostrils fill with the aroma of the freshly bathed Louis, a scent he knows from his little recreational use of Louis’ bed. A sweet smile proceeds Louis assurances. 

“Don’t be silly Curly, what is there to be nervous about? If anyone should be worried it would be me. You’ve only invited your sister.” 

Pulling his hand away, Louis goes toward his room, he is barely entering his room when he drops the towel. 

Did Louis have to do that? Could he just simply not have waited until he was fully inside the privacy of his room? 

Does Harry need to know that his roommate’s bubble butt is more than beautiliciously endowed? It also has a pair of perfectly balanced dimples over each cheek. Harry imagines that if Louis were to lay sprawled before him, he could balance a cherry in them as if the dimples were crafted by the gods for such a purpose. Cherries on top of a bum that is as succulent looking as a peach. 

”Harry?” A fully dressed Louis asks when he returns to the hall. This snaps Harry from his stupor brought on by the blinding of being so taken with thoughts of an arse that is not his to have, “You aren’t still nervous are you? Why don’t we have drink before anyone arrives and get you out of this? Come on lad, you’re beginning to make be think I should have something to worry about meeting Gemma.”

Harry is wondering if Louis meant “get you out of this” as _‘out of these clothes’_ when the knock at the door arrests the impulse he has to fantasize. 

Literally Harry was ready to throw his roommate to the floor, or pick him up and press him up against the wall, or whatever. A permeating need to violate the roommate boundaries is a distortion triggered by one brief look at dat-arse.

Harry is expecting Gemma to arrive earlier than most guests. Sure enough, he opens the door to his sister. Also at the door, accompanied by a tall, attractive lad Harry hasn’t met, is Elk. 

The three enter with Gemma and Harry embracing and exchanging a peck of a kiss. Elk and her friend are just in the door when Elk greets Louis with a kiss too.

It’s nothing like the kiss between the siblings; the kiss is a deliberative expression of claim. The lack of even a flinch from her friend makes it clear that the bloke is simply a friend. He sets down a bottle of Tequila he brought before extending a hand to Harry.

“Harry, I’m Max. Max Hurd. El wanted to come by a little early and help out.”

“How nice,” Harry says with enthusiasm so forced it sounds a little contrived given how Gemma does this head tilt hinting she detects a falsity about her brother’s demeanor. Gemma looks at Eleanor who remains perhaps a little too overtly into her man then back at her brother before launching into introducing herself to Max. 

Gemma’s introduction follows with holding out her own offering of tequila adding, “I guess great minds think alike. How about we whip up some margaritas?”

Louis sheds Eleanor like her affection is overplayed. “Wanna a tour?” 

“Of course! You’ve been living here forever and this is the first I been invited. All I’ve seen is that one view from how you have the camera positioned in your bedroom.”

Louis walks a few feet toward the living room. “Well this is it. We eat over there, we chill out over here, that’s it.” 

The ridiculous simplicity of the so-called tour has Eleanor taking Louis by the hand. “Not so quick silly, show me the bedroom. I wanna see this new bed you keep saying is so comfy.”

It’s Eleanor who is dragging Louis away. Louis looks back at Harry with a shrug. Harry tries to not give any indication of what notion has permeated his brain. 

It is only later, after the party is done and everyone has left except he, Louis and Gemma that Harry dares to share what was wrong with him the whole night. Or so his sister asks about as they prepare his makeshift bed on the couch so Gemma can use her brother’s bed for her sleepover. 

“We are alone now, tell me what was that about? Here you were hosting a party and the crush you have been obsessing about for weeks was so lovely and into getting to know you better and you acted like some freakish dolt? Why did you not give Niall an answer when he asked you about golfing sometime? Or Liam when he invited you to go for a run? I mean I understand that you don’t want to get stoned with Zayn, gorgeous as he is, he is not your type...too moody. Though I have read about how marijuana is often useful for people with MS, so maybe consider it sometime, but seriously Harry, what gives?” 

Gemma takes her bay brother’s hands and pulls him with her to have them both sit together on his make-shift bed to allow them to talk quietly as to not wake Louis. 

“So tell me what is going on, I know you, something is wrong. It’s not about Nick anymore. You even made those nerds from the computer lab seem not so weird.”

Harry leans into his sister. His head he lets drop on her shoulder. It been like this with them his entire life. Gemma his confidant, his protector, his best friend.

“There is something that I can’t really share. It is too embarrassing.”

“Harry, I am your sister, no judgement. I knew you are gay before you did. I knew when you had your first boyfriend that he was wrong for you, and the next one, and the next, and,”

“Nick...I know, you knew immediately.”

“Yes. And through every wrong decision I have supported you. Niall I adore! He is so gregarious, and sweet. Kinda sporty. Nice family from the sounds of it. That is important to you because if you aren't with a person who values his family, that has that type of closeness, then they won’t understand yours.”

Harry leaves his head on his sister’s shoulder. A few extended seconds of silence between them is a comfort.

He needs to be brave. Organize his thoughts.

“Gemma? That no judgement? I might put it to a test. Don’t say anything until I finish. Promise?”

“Promise.” Gemma says with ease.

“I should start by saying that I am glad you like Niall. He is, like you said, adorable. Liam too. Even Zayn, moody and all, has got this tender side that is a d o r a b l e. But, this is the thing. It’s about Louis...”

Gemma shrieks. A little too loud such that they both startle, look around, resume their sibling cuddle and hope not have woken Louis. 

“I knew it Harry, knew it, knew it, knew it!” Gemma whispers with excitement. “You have a crush on your new roomy! I knew it when Eleanor kissed him. I could see how uncomfortable you were and it is not because she collects gay men as friends like they are charms, it’s because you fear Louis is into her.”

“What are you talking about, Eleanor and Louis are a thing. His coworker told me that.” 

“I don’t wouldn’t be so sure about that. Their friend Max is most certainly gay. I can’t believe that I have to tell you that instead of it being the other way around. Has Louis said Eleanor is his girlfriend?” 

“Well, no...not so much, but then he is always working or in class and then tonight Elk-anoor was barely in the door for a few seconds before she wanting to see his room. The thing is I think I had a glimpse at why she was so keen on that, but it is embarrassing. You have to promise to not be disappointed in me.” 

Gemma gives her brother a sisterly pat. “Harry you could never disappoint me. you are my baby brother, with a beautiful heart. You deserve every happiness. Nick was never right for you. If I can be a confidant, even with something embarrassing, I am always here for you.” 

Harry pulls away from his sister a bit. Their hands find each other. He knows his sister understands the depth of his suffering with Nick’s abandonement. 

“Like I said, he works so much with two jobs, but one night I came back after saying I was going out clubbing. I wanted to get to know him better. He didn’t hear me before I...I caught him doing a thing. You know, sharing a moment through technology. Tonight after Elk...Eleanor got here she mentioned only having seeing Louis room through a camera lens which leads me to believe they you know, put on a show for each other .” 

“So, what are you saying? I don’t follow.” 

“It makes sense, Louis always working, or in class. He relies on his technology skills for so many things, he even does his Portuguese language practice by talking to gamers in Brazil or Portugal. Given he was in another country for the past year, it makes sense that he and Elk use their computer skills to enhance their relationship so to speak. 

I should not be fantasizing about getting inveloved with a roommate again, one who is straight, has a girlfriend. The thing is tonight, or yesterday, Louis came home, showered, dropped his towel walking into his room...” 

A nervous pause Harry proceeds sharing his secret. “...he has nothing short of a spectacular, epically beautiful arse.” 

Gemma laughs. “Harry, you dolt, what makes you think the towel-drop was an accident? And what about how he was with his mates tonight, _his male friends_? You were kind busy with playing mr hospitality, I know, but did you not see the little things going on? His friend Liam has a very intimate way of putting his hands on Louis, Louis blushes, bats those eyelashes that are so long its a wonder that they don’t knock his glasses off as he smiles at Liam. Louis steals Zayn’s cigarette which causes Zayn to stare at Louis’ lips...and Louis doesn’t smoke. At least that is what Eleanor said that every time, like to Zayn, to tell Zayn to knock it off, but it was Louis doing a little flirting thing. He never stole her cigarette, only Zayn’s. 

Why would Eleanor at so territorial over Louis if he is into Eleanor so much? Why did Louis seek out Niall to tickle but not his girlfriend? Those are a few of the things about Louis that have me doubting this girlfriend thing. I think you have been through so much physically and emotionally that you can’t see what is what. That towel? You really think it was an accident? You haven't told him you are gay yet, have you? Maybe the towel-drop was to see how you react.” 

“I don’t know Gemma. All I am sure of is that I can’t risk another thing like with Nick. What happens if I do something to make him uncomfortable? He has made it clear he is gone in a year. He was talking tonight about going to Italy for the break, Eleanor is going too, that sounds like a couple to me. I am not going to tell him about my private life, my ideal partner, the MS or anything else to put him off, I don't care how inconceivably perfect his arse is. 

Gemma pulls Harry back to her. Sitting in silence she offers a snarky explanation for Eleanor’s purpose as a traveling companion. It is not that Gemma is a mean person, she simply wants her brother’s self-imposed misery to ease a little. “Maybe he needs his elk to carry his luggage? He is a tiny thing. Kinda pocket-sized.” 

She gets a laugh from Harry. A minute of silence follows before she weighs in again. “Chin up Harry. That virus is taking a toll in Italy. Maybe he will decide not to go? 

And another thing, those eyes of his, like damn, what shade of blue is that? Someday I want to start my own line of eyewear and make something that won’t camouflage pretty eyes like his.”


	6. Mirage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is now fabulously Beta-scrubbed! Thanks Babypinklouis! (My personal favorite is...see end notes...

Louis had been teaching Harry how to better play when a call came in that had Louis abandoning the game, retiring to his room for privacy. The door is ajar, so when Louis ends one conversation only to immediately place a followup call, Harry is lured into eavesdropping. Some of the conversation Harry can’t pick up because Louis is walking around in his room, a sign that he might be frustrated. 

A couple statements are quite animated. 

“El, it’s too much money to spend to travel and then not get to see _him_ , only to go shopping in Milan _with you_. Besides, it sounds like all of Italy is beginning to quarantine now.”

Silence indicates Eleanor responding. Louis’ next words are exceedingly hard to hear. A few seconds later Louis returns.

He is visibly unhappy. 

Adorable in his oversized hoodie, his uncharacteristically diminished state, he plops down next to Harry. Pushing his headphones aside rather than pick them up to resume play, Louis knocks a knee against Harry’s leg like to derail Harry’s gaming focus.

Harry pretends he was absorbed with the game. He waits a few seconds after the leg-bump before he gets his game-self killed as if that is the cause to stop.

“Wanna order food?” Louis asks once Harry removes his headphones.

“Now? It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

“So? I’m hungry. You want to order something or not?”

Louis begins scrolling through numbers on his phone when Harry offers to make them something to which Louis declines by describing Harry’s idea of food as “cardboard and lettuce.”

Harry pulls a damn fine imitation of a silly face with an eye-roll that he has learned Louis does fairly often. Faking a pout he has also adopted from Louis’ behavior, Harry playfully protests. 

”But my cardboard is only the finest organic, non GMO, vegan cardboards that are raised free-range. Sustainably harvested too!”

He gets a small laugh out of the down-trodden Louis. Harry justifies his decision. “Actually, I should get to bed early. I have an exam in my first class tomorrow, eating late gives me bizarre dreams.”

Louis shakes out of his slump making an abrupt decision. “Understood, I’m gonna go get a burger. Get your beauty sleep, Curly Legs.”

***

Harry was in their bathroom when he heard the sounds of Louis leaving. As he brushed his teeth, Harry began to feel bad. He has had so little time with Louis and the offer for getting delivered food, probably unhealthy and late, becomes more appealing. The hint that Louis was more interested in going to Italy to visit his good mate rather than having a holiday with Elk has Harry wondering if Gemma is more intuitive than he gives her credit for.

Putting his clothes back on, Harry guesses which neighborhood pub Louis would go to for a burger. 

*** 

It’s a Thursday night and the pub is packed with the Uni crowd, most of whom are getting an early start on their weekend. Few were eating given the hour. Harry searches. He finds no Louis, but is pleased to come across Niall and Zayn sitting with five of their other mates.

“Harry!” The two call out.

The warmth of their greeting fills Harry’s heart. He hasn’t had people welcome him like this for so long, thanks very much to asshat-Nick.

Niall slides over and pats the small space made in the booth next to him to invite Harry.

Zayn immediately takes a clean glass and begins to pour Harry a beer.

“Hey, thanks,” Harry says after the welcome and introductions are made, “I was expecting to find Louis here. He said he wanted to get a burger.”

Niall casually lays an arm across Harry’s shoulder and back. This attention from his crush has Harry gulping some of his beer. Feelings of friendship and inclusiveness are quickly replaced with disappointment despite his crush being at his side when Zayn gestures at the door.

“He came, took Liam and left. I think they went across the street. I don't think he was looking for a _burger_.”

The way Zayn extended the word burger made Niall and the other five share a laugh.

Harry’s not sure but he thinks one lad on the other side of Niall said to Niall “Not all meat is the same.”

Whatever was said, they all laugh. The little bit of extra distance in the noisy pub may have made the statement muted but the reaction by Louis’ peers surely suggests the remark was laden with innuendo.

Zayn redirects, engaging Harry with all sorts of questions. This friendly group charms Harry into staying put and having a beer, then another, and another. The feeling of belonging, Niall’s arm remaining across his shoulder, all too soon its last call and the pub is nearing closing.

***

He should not text Gemma at 2:30 am. Three beers when he has not been drinking very often is a bad idea when it comes to Harry’s judgement.

 _“I almost kissed him.”_

The quickness of Gemma’s response lends to the idea that it is the content of the text that even though poorly timed is too significant. 

_“Louis!?!”_

_“No, Niall.”_

_“Niall? Wait? What happened to Louis?”_

_“Sis, you got drop the Louis is gay idea. He is not. Girlfriend, remember? Besides me and Niall had a moment.”_

_“Thing one Harry, Eleanor is a snore to Louis. He isn’t into her. He flirts with his mates. Thing two, give me every detail about this Niall moment, e v e r y detail!”_

Harry replies with a string of texts. Every detail. 

It’s a long pause before Gemma replies to his description of the Niall-moment. Harry assumes she is considering how to couch her response. 

_“Harry… baby bro,”_

Oh god, Harry thinks. Nothing good ever follows Gemma’s preficite, “Harry, baby bro”. 

To make it worse Gemma adds a _“Sweetie,”_

Oh yes a “sweetie”. Here it comes. A “sweetie” and a “baby bro”. His sister thinks he is an idiot.

 _“Sounds like Niall was only being friendly. He sits with friends like that routinely, I would guess. At least he did at your party, arm over his mates. Tell me, did he do anything like stare at your mouth? Stare at your eyes to hold your attention in the busy, distracting setting of a pub with everyone talking, perhaps interrupting each other?”_

_“Well, no.”_

_“This almost-kiss, was it Niall-driven?”_

_“Wtf do you mean, Niall-driven? Yes, the chemistry was there, he was so into me, so friendly, gregarious, laughing at everything I said and when we left the pub he walked with me further than he needed to.”_

_“Harry, you are killing me. Niall is always friendly, gregarious, laughing at everything. That is his personality!!! Again, did he look deep into your eyes, hold them with his, look at your mouth… lick his lips while looking at yours?”_

_“Well, idk, maybe. No, but maybe. There were a lot of us. Crowded at the booth.”_

_“Um hum. Crowded, so of course mates put arms over their mates shoulders...”_

There is a second followup coming from Gemma. Harry waits for it. When the thinking bubbles vanishes, her ask appears. _“Do you know who did stare at your eyes to try hold your attention despite you being the super-host at your party? Who it was who would look at your mouth and lick his lips?”_

More thought bubbles proceed her one word answer to her question. _“Louis.”_

No sooner is the name typed than the door to their flat quietly opens. Louis enters.

Harry was texting Gemma using only the faint light filtering in from the city, assuming Louis was home before him, asleep in his room. 

The Louis who returns is in a way different than the Louis who left hours ago.

He is actually very different than the Louis Harry has been living with and thinks he knows.

Stepping back against the door like to close it with his bum, he quietly asks, “Harry? You up?”

Maybe it is a mirage, but the Louis with his back to their door doesn't wear glasses. He doesn't wear an oversized hoodie. His hair, that is usually more softly styled, has a fringy kind of thing going on. His shirt is a tee with a neckline that reveals his neck, his collarbones, its v-cut is low enough to show much skin. Darkness doesn’t reveal, but the fabric seems more sheer than typical men’s wear. At least it is sheer enough that where the jeans begin, Louis’ shape is revealed.

A shape that is unusual for a boy. 

A tiny waist.

 _Hips more curvy than boyish._

_Full thighs._

“Louis?”

Louis stays back to the door like he needs it to keep standing or he hopes to blend in and disappear. 

The lack of a response is oddly long. An uncomfortable amount of time passes such that Harry is propelled to get to his feet and walk over to the mirage at his door, made to do so in part by his sister’s insistence about something that cannot be.

The mirage smells like Louis.

Well, a Louis who has perspired.

It looks like a Louis.

Well, a Louis who has the same chiseled cheekbones and perfectly balanced pin, pink lips. What is with the eyes? Where are the glasses? Why are there no glasses? What the fuck?... who, what… the literal fuck is this?

Harry becomes aware that he has this creature trapped between him and the front door. It looks up at him and still does not say anything. Harry’s nostrils sense the scent is real, but… mirages aren’t scented, right? 

Also, Harry can feel _its_ warmth. Hear _its_ breathing. 

Is it breathing rapidly? _It_ sounds like it is.

Silent mirage makes no moves, does not speak.

With eyes adjusted and sight-needy, Harry scans the mirage. Its neck and collarbones have slightly darkened patches. Small, less than a coin-sized. _Are these bruises? Blood bruises. A lover’s mark on Louis’ collarbones and neck?_

“Louis?”

“Harry.”

How softly Harry’s name is spoken is such that the illusion this is a mirage holds. 

“Louis?” Harry looks over this little mirage that charges something in him that Harry has not felt since he was dispatched by Nick into the metaphorical bin of life that is heartbreak on the heels of a medical devastation. 

“Louis, where were you? Where are your glasses? What are you wearing? Do you know what time it is?”

Once the rapid-fire questions leave his mouth, Harry wonders why he sounds like a mother hen. What saves him? A question for himself that pops into his head as if it were a bubble thought coming through his phone in a text sent to him from Gemma...

 _Why is Louis staring at his mouth?_

Louis rapidly answers the questions in perfect sequence of their ask. “Burger, with El. Broke them. Borrowed something of hers, cause you know, we… um, you know after the burger we... It is late, after three. You have an exam tomorrow. Why are you up?”

Louis doesn't wait for Harry to explain. He ducks under Harry’s arms to escape. That Harry had not realized: he had framed his entirely fuckable roommate into a pinned space, which is part of this mirage-fantasy land that Harry might need to see if his neurologist can explain. Is this MS? Is this Gemma-fluence? 

Whatever the fuck this is, the experience is not good on the heals of Nick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...”Gemma-fluence”.) _Sublime work Beta-BPL, s u b l i m e!_ 💛💕💜


	7. Gemma-fluence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always the master beta, thank you Babypinklouis! 💛♥️💛

_“So your roommate told you one thing but his friends told you another? Do you really believe Louis was with Eleanor last night, really???_

_“I don’t know, the lads said he left with Liam. He could have gone to ElK’s after. I think he didn’t leave things on the best of terms with her after they talked about canceling their plans to go on holiday to Italy with the virus spreading there. Maybe he went to make up with her after blowing off steam.”_

_“And his glasses, was L wearing them this morning?”_

_“Idk, didn’t see him. I left before him to prepare to take my exam.”_

_“Where are you now?”_

_“Waiting in Neurology to see the PA. She said with the Covid thing there are new things to go over in case the virus begins to spread beyond China and Italy because of my higher risk.”_

Harry stops his text exchange. Liam passing through an intersection of the corridor catches his attention. Liam spots Harry too and changes his direction to come to greet Harry. 

“Hey, Harry.” 

“Liam.” A strange fear sets in on Harry like Liam might be clairvoyant and know he was just then texting about Liam and Louis. 

”How’s it going? Hanging out in Neurology these days?” 

Harry’s lie comes with ease. “Something like that. Assignment for one of my courses, getting some background from one of the neurology docs.” 

Liam doesn’t wait for an invitation. He sits next to Harry and proceeds to sort through his bag while engaging in casual conversation that centers around coursework. 

Harry decides to launch into a subject of interest: who was Louis with last night. 

”How was the club last night? Niall and Zayn said you and Louis headed across the street?” 

Liam stops his rummaging through the contents of his bag, assessing Harry’s direct change of subject with his full attention. 

“Good, great actually, though it was more crowded for a Thursday night than usual. Or maybe it only seems that way when out with Louis. He has a way of demanding attention.” 

Harry nods and is speculative before adding “I imagine that must annoy Eleanor.” 

Liam closes up his bag, signally he is done with his organizing. 

”Well, I don’t really think Louis is concerned about what El thinks. The thing about El is that she really likes being around men who aren’t available, like Max… Louis.” 

Draping the bag over his shoulder, Liam stands. He looks Harry over with more of an over study, “I should get going, see you around.” 

Liam is a few steps away when Harry calls out, “Louis’ glasses, how did they get broken?” 

Harry’s question has Liam looking dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?” 

”When Louis came home last night he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He said they were broken last night.” 

”I don’t know anything about that.” There is an uncomfortable air about Liam as he turns to hurry off leaving Harry with no answers but another curiosity. Men who aren’t available like Max and Louis? 

*** 

Louis comes home from working both his jobs on Friday with classes in between. He is on his phone when he enters and as per usual, wearing his glasses, an oversized hoodie and, on this day, baggy trackers. He takes the conversation to the privacy of his room, door closed. 

When he joins Harry in the living room, Louis has changed into a different hoodie. The fresh hoodie is even more oversized and has a more concealing neckline. Harry slips into the enticement this presents. Is Louis hiding lovers' marks?

Harry smiles at Louis, trying not to be obvious about his study of Louis’ neck. 

”Louis, what a long day, didn’t you say your glasses were broken last night?”

Louis looks down as he responds, “Yes, but Eleanor fixed them, brought them to the lab this morning.”

“Isn’t she sweet.” This compliment comes out flat which catches Louis’ attention.

“You okay Harry? Your exam went alright? You’re acting strange.” 

Louis sounds sincere and, for a second, Harry wrestles with an emotion that he realizes is his jealousy. It occurs to him that he has no right to feel this way and pushes the jealousy aside. Louis looks understandably tired from the combination of a late night and a two-job day on top of his classes.

Harry diverts from his odd behavior. He pats the open space on their couch next to him. 

“Wanna play with me?”

Louis doesn’t pick up his controller. Or Harry’s innuendo. 

He lays back against the armrest of the couch. Sitting in what Harry has come to know is Louis’ typical legs-spread-wide fashion. Such a relaxed pose Louis gives a casual openness, a tempting welcoming. 

Harry begins meandering on about his exam and its challenges. It’s boring. Louis begins to blink with the heavy-lidded look of one who is fighting their fatigue. Harry continues to talk, stopping every so often until he is sure his roommate is indeed fallen asleep. 

With Louis assuming the soft, rhythmic breathing of slumber, his lips parted ever so slight, Harry considers risking taking the glasses from him. He stops himself. 

He really only wants to get a good look at Louis’ neck. Leaning in as close as he dared, Harry gets a glimpse of one mark. Flawless skin is flawless no more. 

Jealousy wells up in Harry again. Jealousy fueled by how pretty Louis looks sleeping with his pink lips, his angular cheekbones, his full lashes fanning over them. If he could only press his lips to Louis’ skin where someone left their mark, what would that feel like? What would he taste like? 

Worried that temptation might get the better of him, Harry decides to go to bed. Walking past Louis’ room with the door open, he hears Louis’ phone vibrating where it lays on the desk. Caller ID reveals “Eleanor” which entices him to answer it, given the very late hour. 

“Hi El.”

“Harry? Hi, how are you, can I talk to Louis?” She sounds a bit surprised by Harry’s voice but not so much that it is awkward. 

“M’good, sure you can talk to him except he is sleeping. Came home from Smithies, changed, fell asleep. Do you want me to wake him?” 

“Oh, okay, no don’t wake him. Just give him a message for me? Tell him I really miss our time together outside of work. It’s been forever since we’ve done anything fun.”

Harry’s confused. This precisely refutes what Louis said. 

“Sure El, I leave him the message, but didn’t you see each other last night?”

Eleanor makes a “humf” kinda noise like she doesn’t like that Harry just said the always-busy Louis did make time to go out last night. 

“Ah, no, Harry, it has been forever, like I said, since we’ve done anything fun. Your party is actually the last time we weren’t just at work together, or walking to classes after. Be a love and be sure to give him my message, please. We don't work the same shift at the lab this weekend and, as I said, it has been way too long.”

Their call ends and Harry realizes he has sat on Louis’ desk-chair, so he takes a few seconds to look over the images of fit men adorning one wall of Louis’ room. The effects of the fairy lights that are always left on enhance the contrast of three stark walls and the one that stands out as a shrine to fit, powerful, attractive men. Then there is Eleanor’s revelation. 

Louis was with Liam.

Liam left the pub to go clubbing on Louis’ bidding. Eleanor is in the friendzone. 

“...not all meat is the same” Louis’ mates may have said. Harry finds himself saying that comment aloud as he weighs evidence.

Picking up a blanket from Louis’ messy bed, Harry goes to cover his slumbering roommate.

Standing over Louis and looking down at him, Harry decides to remove Louis glasses so they don’t get broken again. 

Harry lays the cover beside Louis with a change of mind. 

“Come on, you.” He says to an unresponsive Louis. “You need a good night’s rest and you won’t get that by sleeping here.” 

Harry leans down to pull Louis to his feet.

Louis mumbles some protest that’s hardly anything interpretable. Harry finds he must lift Louis in the absence of any effort of self-support from Louis. 

Once to the bed, Louis is only made to get all his limbs somewhat on the bed by Harry’s efforts. 

“Get out of these clothes, yeah?” Harry leaves Louis to retrieve the blanket returning to a still clothed, haphazardly sprawled Louis. 

“Louis, you can’t possibly get a restful night’s sleep like this,” Harry pulls some blankets back to slip Louis’ jeans-clad legs under some covers.

“Louis, at least get out of that bulky hoodie,” Harry says as he begins to pull the garment off a completely rag-doll like flatmate.

The hoodie stripped off, the sight of Louis takes Harry’s breath away. 

What a tiny thing Louis is. Tiny nips. Barely enough flesh on his torso to hide his ribcage, his collarbones prominent and all of it is littered with marks. So marked are his barely muscled pecs above his nips. If Louis was with Liam last night, the pair must have made quite an impression on the dance floor, but who knows. Maybe they went to the club together and picked up some girls. 

The Louis who came home so late into Thursday night that it was well into Friday morning wasn't wearing a concealing hoodie like the nerdy Louis Harry has come to know.

Seeing what Louis is hiding, his twink-like perfection, has Harry piecing together more about Louis. That adds to what a hasty Louis pre-house party was not afraid to hide: a bum that is the definition of bottom-lover perfection. The too-much perfection triggers an overload. 

Harry is tempted to discover more. “I’m gonna loosen these jeans, okay?”

The top button unfastened, Harry lowers the zipper. He is confronted with a lovely soft puff of a belly but nothing more than a perfect pillow for place one’s cheek, after a kiss, after a... “Stop it Styles.” Harry says to himself aware that Louis is not his. Also realizing that whatever Louis and Liam did after leaving their mates at the pub was clearly so rigorous that by returning home so late, working through such a long following day, the lad is simply spent.

Harry pulls the covers over Louis as best he can while telling himself that there appears to be no sign of a happy trail that points to anything like the idea that Louis likes men. Men like the ones on his wall-of-the-gods. Furthermore, this is an advance without consent and so, not cool. 

His retreat to his room takes on some haste as Harry can only allow himself to indulge briefly in the idea that Louis likes the rock-hard body type such as Liam, not women. Indulge briefly enough to allow himself some release. Release in his own hand and then some sleep. Maybe in his dream he can push these dangerous ideas out of his mind. He really doesn't need another roommate entanglement like he had with Nick.

*** 

Harry is pretty sure he should talk to Louis.

Not be such an immature idiot. He is developing feelings. Urges.

The past couple days, some things did not line up. Is it Gemma-fluence? Nick-damage? Whatever the cause, there were little signs that he and Louis should talk. 

At first light on Saturday morning, Harry takes a run to clear his head and organize his thoughts. It ends up being a mini marathon, because Harry can't fathom what he will do if he is perceived as an idiot when he broaches sensitive subjects with Louis. 

Following a stretch with much reflection, he enters their building. A brief text-exchange with Gemma may emboldened him. Gemma convinced him something was there with Louis and a mature conversation was in order.

Also, “Louis is not Nick.”

“Nick?”

Harry has keyed into his flat to hear laughter and two familiar voices. One he is sure he loves and the voice of the other is one he used to love. 

There, sat at Harry’s kitchen table, drinking tea and sharing laughter with his flatmate is Nick Grimshaw. 

Harry blurts out, “What are you doing here?”

Nick turns to and smiles warmly at Harry, but the warmth seems to be a hold-over of a smile he was exuding because of a possible enchantment with Louis. Harry knows Nick too well to not detect things like signs of infatuation. Louis has captivated Nick.

Nick stands up and moves like to greet Harry with a hug. Harry makes a deliberative move to step off to the side, going toward Louis who is distracted with pouring a third cup of tea. 

Louis was not aware that Harry wasn’t receiving Nick. However, Nick is aware but plays it cool. 

“I happened to come across a set of your car keys. I thought I would drop them by. Do a little catching up. Luckily for me, Louis was here.”

“Louis” slips from Nick's lips with a little extension of the name and a twinkle in Nick’s eyes; eyes that follow Louis and fall on his ass as he turns away to start another kettle of water for tea.

Harry picks up the keys that lay on the table. He manages a “Thanks,” before he goes to the door. Opening it he adds, “so you’ll be going now.”

Spoken as a directive, not a question, Harry’s behavior has Louis’ attention.

“Harry, whatever is wrong with you? Nick was just telling me about some places to check out in Greece. You never told me you have traveled in the Mediterranean.”

Closing the door, Harry’s posture showed his reluctance and discontentment. Harry offers a vague explanation. Nick alone will get the meaning while to Louis it will appear rational. 

“Well, that’s because what were the best days of my life in travels to Greece became painful memories when I was dumped by someone I thought loved me.”

Nick sips his tea. The directive to leave hasn’t struck him despite Harry’s blatant hint.

Louis pours more boiling water into the teapot before coming to Harry and rubbing his back. Once the unspoken comfort is offered, Harry is slightly placated that Nick has to suffer seeing this. If this implies something, Nick’s dismay is a nice consolation.

The tenderness is effective. Nick interrupts. “Wonderful tea Louis. Where do you get it?”

Louis abandons Harry’s back rub. He checks the pot to see how the steeping is proceeding. 

“It’s the house blend that Smithies carries. I work there so I get an employees discount. I’m typically more a Yorkshire Earl Grey lad meself, but this is very good.”

Harry nearly chokes when Nick jumps in to make a flirtatious implication. 

”Smithies? I think I’m going to have to start shopping there!”

Nick isn’t interested in the tea at Smithies. Harry knows this. 

Louis, being true to himself, responds casually. 

“Be sure to let me know if you can’t find what you need there. Me girlfriend Eleanor always looks for these weird things most people would never want to buy. It’s gotten so I can’t leave work without buying this or that for her. So if Smithies has it, I can find it.”

Harry can’t believe how happy he is to hear Louis say the words “his, Louis’, girlfriend”. 

The straight-branding is effective. Nick directs himself to Harry.

“You know, Harry, I could have sent you those keys but I did have another reason for dropping by. Can we have a few minutes in private?”

***

When Harry finally closes the door on Nick, following their conversation, he has some measure of closure with Nick.

A very small measure. 

Nick doesn't take away from the responsibility or hurt of anything he has done. 

Not once did he apologize for what he did to malign Harry’s reputation. Nick only proved to be human-enough to reach out to Harry when he had concerns of life and death for his slighted ex.

The private conversation was to warn Harry about the Coronavirus. “Take precautions” were Nick’s last words after Harry showed him out.


	8. The Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Babypinklouis! You are masterful as always!

Harry closes the door, turning to meet a penetrative stare from Louis. 

“What was that?” 

“That?” Harry shuffles his feet. Looking to them to evade Louis’ scrutiny. “Just an old friend… checking in.” 

“An old friend?” Louis hands land on his hips, bracketing them. Disbelief written on his face. 

Coming to Harry, seeking his eyes, Louis adds “Funny that you didn’t seem too happy to see Nick. Nick didn’t seem too interested in friendly banter with you and you, you don’t look so good after a chat with Nick. Is everything okay?”

Harry wells up with emotion given Louis’ tenderness. Tears pooling in his eyes, the first few break over Harry’s lower lashes spurred by Louis gently holding his hands. One cupped in each of Louis’ slighter, smaller ones as Louis walks him back to their couch to sit. 

“If you want to talk about something, you can trust me. That wasn’t simply an old mate coming by to return keys. That was a gay man who you have some history with and, based on the look on your face, I’d say the history was more than a little experiment between roomies or a meaningless fling.” 

Harry fails to stifle back the response to this concern. He sobs. 

Breaking so he finds that Louis pulls him into his chest. Harry‘s face becomes tucked into Louis’ neck and jawline, where the warmth of Louis comforts him. The scent of Louis infuses Harry with a calmness. 

Is it a fragrance of citrus and bergamot, maybe a hint of sage or rosemary? Whatever the blend is on Louis’ skin, it is as divine as is the relaxing rhythm of his breathing, the way his arms thread around Harry to keep him tight. 

Composure comes slowly. In part, this is by choice. Harry likes the way Louis puts little kisses on the top of his head and softly tells him to let the story come when he feels ready. The urge to lift his chin and look at Louis is the sign that Harry can talk, but he knows he wants that lift of lips so close to Louis’ to be met with a kiss. This is why he doesn't dare look despite noticing that Louis has removed his glasses and set them beside himself. 

_If you dare to look, Styles, you are gonna lose it_. Harry doesn’t chance lifting his eyes. Indeed, he holds his breath. His silence inspires Louis to talk. 

“You know, Harry, I learned more about my roommate from Nick while he was here than I’ve learned all this time living together.” 

_Please, please don’t tell me he said I have MS, that I had Ebola, that am a gay man and a leper_. This unspoken plea is followed by a cautious ask. “Like what?” 

“He told me that you love to dance, you never want to stop,” A tonal shift to teasingly playful comes along with Louis adding, “but he says you’re an absolute nightmare on the dance floor.” 

_Crisis averted?_ “What else?” 

”He said you are a neat freak, which I know, but it was surprising when he said he would start wearing your clothes, hoping you would wash his because of his more demanding schedule, but you never did. That lead to an interesting reaction from him when I said you have done my laundry more times since I moved in than I have meself!” 

Harry’s heart races ever so slightly. 

“And Nick said when you were traveling together in the Mediterranean you liked to paint your fingernails.” 

_Please don't ask about my sexuality, please don’t ask..._ “And?” 

“And he didn’t say anything about all those pill bottles despite me asking since he is a medical doctor. So if you're acting so weird because of that, whatever the secret is, he didn’t share it with me. He hit on me. Twice. Or three times, if you include the subtle flirt when you were here.” 

”I keep the pills in my room.” 

”I know that now. He wanted a tour to see the changes, so we went into your room. He actually opened the drawer beside the bed, where you have them out of sight. I think he wanted to look at what you were taking, some concern. I asked him about them, he declined to share anything...” 

Louis pauses long enough to suggest he is weighing his next words. “...if you have anxiety or something, don’t worry, Harry. Nothing will change my opinion of you. I like you the way you are. I like your stupid jokes, your incessant neatness, the way the flat smells when I come home. I love that you are shit at games we’ve played countless times before,” 

Another layer of gentle teasing enters his tone as Louis adds “I’d love to see that nightmare of a dance style of yours.” 

This has Harry looking up. 

Pools of blue-green, some flecks of paler blue like caps on waves reflecting sunlight meet his eyes. Their faces so close that Harry catches himself dropping his eyes to Louis’ pale pink lips and back to blue. Pink. Blue. Pink and blue with a complexion so flawless that, if it were not for a tiny cluster of minor freckles, it could be said he was made of wax. 

Stunned with sensory overload at this beauty that is his flatmate, his mouth opens and his intended words evaporate. He is saved by Louis having no loss for words. He smiles so full of the mischievous thought happened upon him that crinkles frame his unshielded eyes as he laughs through his words. “You, with your nails painted, on the dance floor, being a nightmare, now that would be...” 

Louis extracts from their cuddle, his glasses retrieved, donned again he casts an offer over his shoulder. 

“How about we go out? I want a greasy, unhealthy, nearly inedible breakfast? I have a confession, as long as this is sharing secrets-time. When I went out the other night, I did not get a burger. I meant to. When I got to McLaraney’s pub my best mates were there. Me and Liam went across the street to the club. Liam was having relationship issues. So talk about nightmare on the dance floor. You really should have been there. Would have fit in with us perfectly.” 

Harry doesn't mind the idea of poorly made food, greasy and inedible, because it is what Louis wants. He follows Louis like a dog idolizing their master. 

“Who was the nightmare? You or Liam?” 

Louis laughs with ease. “Me, naturally, Curly Legs.” 

He ruffles Harry’s hair before he adds context as he opens the door. “I mean, I was drinking on an empty stomach, way too tired, the club was packed. I was quickly sweat drenched, wearing a warm hoodie, so this girl gave me her shirt she had on over her camisole shirt. When we left, Liam had to put me to bed for a little because I was so knackered. I left me glasses at his, he brought me home when I kept hogging his bed. I still could barely stand on my own.” 

Louis stops for effect to finish his confession. “I wanted you to know that. I would never lie to you about anything important. You can trust me to share secrets and keep yours confidential.”

There must be something known universally in the medical community that explains Nick’s visit, because Harry gets a call from his doctor, not the physician’s assistant, but the doctor himself the following Monday. His neurologist is of a caliber that he doesn't make calls to do idle chit chat. 

The point of his call is concise and direct. It creates a giant lump of anxiety in Harry’s core. 

“Harry, I wanted to alert you to the fact that I am sending an advance of all your meds so you won’t be affected should there be delays in processing or shipping because of the Coronavirus impacts. I also want you to implement some life-style changes. There is going to be restrictions and guidelines nation-wide and you should be prepared ahead of it. 

I don’t want you circulating among the larger population, particularly among your peers as the youth population tend to be risk takers. Your immune system puts you at heightened risk. I trust you understand this is an imperative.”

The doctor proceeds to direct Harry to talk with all his professors about taking his course work home. He offers Harry his assist; he will be sending them notice that this is doctor’s orders. 

Worried about the size of some files he will need to download, Harry digs through his desk searching for a thumb drive for massive data files. Unsuccessful, he considers going to buy one on his way to campus, but the anxiety surging following the conversation has him afraid to leave his flat. An irrational fear overtakes him. The fear leads to an assumption. 

Louis has a plethora of drives laying around on his desk. Probably he won’t mind if Harry borrows a drive. 

Sure enough, the small drawer of Louis’ desk has a partially full box of thumb drives. Harry assumes these are unused drives and takes one. Harry is on campus waiting to meet one of his professors when he decides he should have asked, so he texts Louis knowing Louis is at the lab. 

A reply comes swiftly. “Of course you can have a thumbdrive! Take one from on my desk.” 

Take one from _on_ the desk is quite specific. 

Harry plugs in the drive he took from in the desk drawer. A file labeled “games” seems innocent so Harry clicks on the file to open it. 

Louis’ idea of games is far different than what Harry was expecting they would be.


	9. “Games”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to my Beta 💕Babypinklouis! Stay safe!

Louis’ use of the label of games is far different than what Harry was expecting. 

“Games” meaning nerdy, tech-geek, gamer-boy is playing a game of cum-play.

He wears no glasses. Instead, Louis wears black eyeliner.

He wears no clothes. Every exquisite curve, muscle, the delicateness of his bone structure, whether it is his chiseled cheekbones, his prominent collarbones, his ribs and his pelvic bones are exposed. All of him lit by the softness of the fairy lights strung throughout his room.

Louis plays this game with a friend. Harry hears only Louis as Louis wears something like a wireless earbud in one ear. Someone somewhere else is in his ear as his voice is in theirs. Harry can only imagine they were watching live what Louis made a copy of while he plays with them. 

Louis gliding his touch over his skin, pausing to wet his fingers before he plays with a nipple, pinching himself. Sliding a hand down to play with his cock, his balls, wetting fingers again before his hand goes to his backside as he is surely teasing his hole. His cock becomes increasingly engorged, developing a more reddish hue than the shaved skin of his crotch area; he is enjoying himself despite being alone...

But then he is not alone. He has a device in his ear so he’s the only one who can hear the person he is performing this, this, this… whatever this is with. Harry knows given the plethora of electronics, computers, technology that clutters Louis’ desk and surrounding shelves that he has quite the little makeshift home studio. Anything he says, like what he was doing when he made this copy, is captured from the desk-side of his room and sent live to some participant. 

One thing Louis left off his application for the roommate finder service is his camboy hobby. 

The one-sided dialogue proves this is a thing he has done with them before. 

“Yeah, I know what you want,” Louis pauses like the device in his ear transmits what they interrupt to say. He smiles a little and it is a wickedly devious smile before he resumes.

“but I wanna hear you beg me for it or I’ll just keep on wanking meself off like this, probing me hole with me fingers,” another pause, one where Louis rolls his head and arches his back a little as if while they plead for him it is all he can do to stifle what is increased pleasure from staying his course. 

Putting them off with his languid pace of masterbation, Louis shivers a bit, hinting that his needs are becoming too risky for him to stave off denying his partner. With an overtly faked protestation to his tone, he pouts his protestation about what must have been a directive from the participant. “Alrighty then, have it your way, cunt. Strap it on and let’s get to it.”

Strap it on? The three simple words has Harry immediately getting a picture of Miley Cyrus wearing a strap-on like she did in one of her more scandalous performances. The unpleasant image is followed by a hunch that the partner with whom Louis plays this game is none other than his girlfriend Elk.

Way too deep into watching this homemade porn video, Harry doesn't even notice that the student meeting with the prof ahead of him is leaving. He is absorbed in this game as Louis shifts from on his knees to facing away. He keeps on his knees but he lowers his chest to the bed so as to tripod his bottom into ideal view leaving his hands free.

His head is turned to the side but it is still a little harder to hear him with his face turned away. He sides a hand to his arse and pulls on one cheek, “So you wanna watch me fuck meself.” 

His other hand searches the bed to find a bottle of lube he has handy. He liberally coats his crack, he slides his fingers between cheeks several times with a few additions of pushing one or two in. Any twisting or scissoring of them has him reduced to narrations of the sensations that are just moans, “ohs'' and pants. When he finally stops this prep he keeps one cheek parted and waves his bum slowly left and right for sake of letting the fairly lights play on the glistening, welcoming, wanting hole. Wanting it would be seem because it gives up a few minute trembles.

He reaches across the bed again to take a toy. It's a dildo. A nice long one, thick, at its base it has a pair of balls. The thing is nearly as big as Harry’s cock that has filled out and snaked its way down Harry’s pants. Louis is about to shift from lubing this thing by rubbing in his slicked crack to pushing its head against his entrance when from across the waiting area Harry hears, “Mr Styles, I can see you now.”


	10. Slippery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you find this an easy-read and have a healthy, positive 2021. Peace.

Harry was relieved that all thoughts of Louis and an erection they caused dissipated quickly as soon as the professor and Harry met. Harry goes from office to office meeting with all his professors. With each visit he is adding to the thumbdrive essential files for working from home. 

Every time he passes the drive over he worries, freaks out a little, that someone will harmlessly, innocently, perhaps with mere curiosity, check the file labeled games. This is why following the last of these meetings Harry is compelled to go to the computer lab.

Outside the lab is a long line of students waiting in cue. Inside there is a contested mob of students, far more than anything normal. As he pushes through the crowd he hears those around him talking. The subject on everyone’s tongue? University is shutting down from in person classes. Thus the reason for so many needing tech help. It appears many students are at the lab hoping to collect a loaner laptop, others might be simply trying to make sure they are up to date with software but when Harry finally gets close enough to entering the lab he sees Louis surrounded by students. He looks to be helping several simultaneously. Across the lab Eleanor is doing the same. It’s the first time when he has passed the lab that she isn't hovering close to Louis and a sign that the swamped lab has desperation in the air.

Slipping between students to make his way closer to Louis it is hard to conceive the little tech geek with the nerdy glasses has an alter ego if Harry hadn’t seen it himself. The discovery has Harry eyeing him with a new intensity; an intensity such that despite there being five students clamoring for his attention Louis must sense he is being studied. 

Louis stops what he is doing and looks to a crowd-impeded Harry. 

He smiles at Harry. _It’s that kind of smile._

A fluttering sensation socks Harry’s stomach and his cheeks get a flush of warmth. Is he blushing?

Louis breaks away from his congregation of students and comes toward Harry. Unlike Harry who was met with resistance trying to weave through the lab, students part for Louis, part and plead for him. The irony of the pleads has Harry blushing anew.

If only these randoms knew what Harry knows; Louis likes to make them plead.

“Harry?” Louis questions entirely too tender and softly given the noise level in the room. Harry has to lean in despite Louis. being right in front of him. “What are you doing here? Do you still need a drive?”

The expression on Louis’ face is genuine concern. In a room full of chaos everything seems to stand still for a spit second with Harry realizing that Louis is keenly aware that there is something off about him. The pressing needs of others pushed aside, Louis looks to Harry’s eyes, blue searching green, waiting for Harry’s explanation.

“No, no, like you said I grabbed one from on your desk, wanted to stop by before heading home and say thanks. What’s going on? Why is it so busy, busier than the first week of classes?” 

Louis smiles while pulling a face indicating he thinks his flatmate is a dolt. He ruffles Harry’s hair too as he supplies Harry with news Harry overheard in bits and pieces.

“Rumors going around, that all classes going going to all online. We’re trying to get as many students set up with laptops as quickly as we can in case it’s true. You should go home. You know anything you need I can do for you there.”

Louis choice of words has a new meaning for Harry. In his pocket is a thumb drive full of evidence that there is a lot more that Louis can do for Harry more than mere tech assistance.

Louis repeats himself snapping Harry put of an arresting mental blank where his brain momentarily derailed into thinking about Louis where Harry left off watching the “game”.

_Chest down on his bed._

_Knees paced wide, bum presented._

_One hand pulling ass-cheek aside._

_Louis’ hole is slicked, prepped seemingly glittering as he wave his bum teasingly in a room lit with hundreds of fairy lights._

_All this for someone he was about to dick himself with a long, fat dildo almost as impressive as Harry’s natural endowment._

Coming back to reality Harry asks, “Um, okay, see you home later. Do you have a shift at Smithies?”

Louis puts a hand on Harry’s face giving Harry a shiver as he does brief caress. It’s done so casually that it belies how it is an intimate thing for two who are _merely roommates_ , while confirming that is his plan. 

Louis ends their conversation by saying he must get back “to it” but not without another subtle but unspoken expression of caring as he squeezes Harry’s elbow before turning to wade back to those he abandoned. The two acts of tenderness have Harry sprinting home from the lab. Knowing he will have hours and hours to watch and rewatch the games Louis plays. This plan ignites in him something he has felt much of since he was crushed by Nick.

***

“...so he, the first time Louis inserte the head of the thing into himself it was only a little tease. He stopped, pulled it out so whoever was watching could see how his little hole wanted to keep its tightness. He did this several times, like impress the idea that prepped or not, his walls were tight. When he finally took it deeper he was into making these little sounds, loosing his ability to finish his whispers about the pressure on his rim the noises he made took over telling the story. Little gasps, soft moans, you know.”

Gemma states the obvious. “Surely now you cannot still believe that Louis is into women.”

“I don’t know what to think Gemma...he did say ‘strap on’.”

“Yeah, well that is just an expression, it doesn’t mean anything. You’re not young enough to be so naive Harry.” Gemma softens her voice before she begins teasingly prying her brother for more. “So this dicking himself, how many times did you watch it?”

“Four.”

Gemma laughs. “And how many times did you get off?”

“Five. Five before Louis got home. He looked positively exhausted. Got a shower and went right to bed. Was up early this morning, still looking tired, ate some dreadfully unhealthy thing instead of waiting for the muffins I was baking. He said he’d promised people still in line yesterday he’d open the lab early to help them first thing. He is really so sweet and caring.”

Gemma keeps with her teasing. “Ahhh, naughty as well as nice!”

***

Two days later an odd sounding tap at the front door has Harry putting down his phone having received a message from the university sent out to all students, staff and faculty. 

The campus rumors are true. This message is not entirely surprising to Harry given his doctors advanced assumption this was coming, Nick’s visit too, but there it is, official confirmation. All classes are going to switch from in-class instruction to remote. There will be no classes for a week to give faculty some extra time to prepare their online assignments.

He goes to the door, opening it for Louis who has arms full with a pair of boxes loaded with groceries. Harry grabs the larger one from Louis as they head to the kitchen together he asks if Louis saw the message. Louis admits he had advanced warning of that at the start of his morning shift in the at the lab; the techs were told to push ahead quickly preparing students for online. 

”So you’ve known for awhile?” Harry asks while beginning to put some groceries away.

“No, not officially, not until today. I would have told you but we were swamped again. I didn't get a single break, the store was crazy too, people are buying up things to hoard, even buying up some supplies before we could get the shelves stocked. I didn’t think to warn you because I went from one job to the other and you have already prepared for online, haven’t you?” Louis looks at Harry with a hint of suspicion as he adds, “Although you don’t want to tell me why. What are you hiding Harry. We’re roommates, if we’re going into quarantine as I understand it, why so secretive with me?”

Harry snorts. It was a reaction that unintentionally popped out. It severed all of Louis’ attention away from unpacking their groceries.

“Secretive? You think I’m being secretive?”

Louis’ expression shows he is caught surprised by Harry’s reaction. The tone to Harry’s retort was unusually abrupt. 

Louis hit a nerve. He responds to Harry’s bracing behaviors by softening his voice, putting aside the task of unpacking the box. He moves to Harry slipping an arm around Harry’s waist standing so close that when he looks up to Harry the little flecks of azure-blue in his eyes are not obstructed by his glasses. 

A faint scent of smokiness breaches Harry’s nose. He immediately gets the idea that smoke equals Eleanor. Eleanor means somewhere in the insanely busy schedule of the day there was time for her. Harry seethes. He can see her being the type to do a strap on. 

Louis concedes to Harry’s irritablity. “I respect that we don’t need to share everything Harry.” 

Stumped by a mix of emotions overwhelming him he tries to balance them. The softness of Louis’ touch, the accepting manner in which Louis excuses Harry’s odd behavior and the impact his proximity has on Harry creates vacuum of thoughts. _Don’t mention the drive_ , Harry thinks. 

In the absence of a functioning brain all he can muster is an “Okay”. Confronted with Louis so tender and kind that any transparent conversation is stifled by Louis’ tenderness. 

Stifled by a combination of the fears Nick’s rejection created in him and by the intense yearning he has with Louis’ pink lips so temptingly close Harry gets a sudden case of vertigo like the room is spinning. The illusion of a spinning room is the onset of an anxiety attack. This onset has his breathing taking on a raggedy quality and if it were not for Louis holding him he might fall. Numbness, a common MS thing, flushes over him. 

Louis’ eyes widen. “Harry, are you okay? What’s going on?” 

Harry stammers “C-ca-couch.” Harry’s first step to do move to the living room has him teetering and if it were not for Louis having an arm around him he would surely fall. But Louis doesn’t let go, he tightens his grip on Harry and Harry doesn’t hold back from letting his weight rely on Louis for support. Louis escorts him to the couch. 

“What do you need Harry? What can I do for you?” 

Harry’s thought _give me your lips_. His words are not so. “I have some pills for anxiety, in my room, beside drawer.” 

With Louis leaving his side to do as Harry asked of him the trigger becomes apparent to Harry. He maybe desperate to have from Louis more than simply help with rents. Maybe far more than simple pleasure of the flesh. Perhaps it not the scars created by Nick that have him denying his feeling but that the feelings themselves are cause for fright. Could he be making the mistake of in love with his roommate again? 

Louis watches Harry with a concerned scrutiny as he hands Harry the bottle having also filled a glass of water. He sits on the couch along side Harry’s waist. Sat this close Harry gets a whiff of smokiness again. This has him welling up with emotions. Confused he feels a longing for being loved mixed with resentment for Louis choosing to be with Eleanor when he at least must like the idea of something impaling him.

“You okay stay here until you feel better? I can put the rest of the groceries away meself.” Louis softly pats Harry as he said this. His last touch must have lingered too long as the mere touch has Harry’s cock twitch. 

Harry rushes a request afraid Louis will see in his pants the spawning of an erection a simple touch evoked. “Being me a blanket please? I do wanna just stay here for a little bit.”

Louis fetches a small crochet blanket Harry’s nanna made that is draped over a chair. His demeanor with his hasty return is concern, sweetness, nothing naughty, and certainly not anything reactive despite how moody Harry might seem. More than anything Harry gets a hint that Louis’ concern has him hovering and on the precipice of seeking more or revealing a little but Louis fidgets with the blanket for longer than necessary before going back to the groceries. 

Once he begins putting things away he cites to Harry the what he bought that are Harry’s favorites “kamut flour”, “raw cashews”, “those dreadful garbanzo beans”, “that tamarind paste you like to cook with”... 

Finishing his task Louis goes to take a shower. The second the door shuts and water begins to run Harry calls his sister. In his pants his dick continues its stiffening because all Harry can think of is Louis nude, his hands running over himself, pleasuring himself with a toy, like Harry watched four times putting himself in this terribly conflicted state.


	11. Mind-chakra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank babypinklouis who I push way too much, too fast, for any reasonable demands to Beta. Please hang in there bae. The work is only its best with you!💛
> 
> Another chapter will be up in a week. Please enjoy and please comment!  
> 🤍💛🍑💕❤️♥️💜💙💚

Gemma can’t stop thinking about Harry’s need for a fix of his mind-chakra. The mind is blocking his heart-chakra; Harry’s post-Nick self is not the person she knows and this pains her own heart. Harry’s esteem, his lightness, his joy for life is gone. Harry’s clarity is muddled. All this because his wounds are so raw and exposed.

How Harry can’t reconcile that “camboy” is not a hobby someone lists on an application for a roommate pairing, is unfathomable. If Harry would look at things through eyes not clouded by hurt he would see how the camboy thing fits the kinda person who drifted from mate to mate at their party. Louis yearned for cuddles from the other lads, demonstrated his craving for their constant attention. Gemma’s reflects on how it appeared that Louis gave zero fucks about Eleanor other than he was a generally respectful toward her and a gentleman in a brotherly-sort of way. 

With Anne wanting both her children to quarantine at home, Gemma decides to advocate for Harry to remain at the expensive flat near campus after her last, very candid, intensely nsfw conversation with her brother. She considers his being in proximity to the medical team of doctors he has there a card to play to convince Anne of this, but then there is one driving reason for the play. 

Louis.

*** 

“Louis?” 

Louis is at the lab when a call comes in from Gemma. Intrigued as to why Harry’s sister would call given Harry’s, odd behavior the night before, Louis is quick to excuse himself from the cluster of students he is helping. He slips into a quiet back office to take the call. 

“Gemma? Hi, whatz-up?”

“Hi Louis, is this a bad time, are you at work?”

“Yes to at work, not to bad time.” 

“Okay, great, I’ll make this quick. My mum is in a panic about this quarantine thing. When Harry told her about the remote classes she immediately decided he should come to Cheshire and be with us.”

“Oh.” Louis says with a slight disappointment permeating the brief response.

“But I don’t think that is the best thing for Harry. Harry, of all people, needs to be where there is a top medical complex,” pausing, Gemma realizes she is nearly making a potential mistake if she violates Harry’s privacy. Harry hasn’t told Louis what his condition is. 

Gemma turns the subject to one of expenses. “You see our mum recently committed to putting a lot of money from savings into an investment to help me that and with the virus she is going to be hemorrhaging money until I can get my business into production. Her design company is shut down and yet she is continuing to pay her employees. I’m afraid she can’t also continue to cover Harry’s living expenses when he isn’t compelled to live in London. She is asking him to move home.”

It is a long pause. Long enough that Gemma has to prompt. “Louis?”

Louis exhales loudly like during the pause he was holding his breath. 

“I see, um but does Harry want to do that? He hasn't said anything to me about moving out, but he was really moody last night, is this what’s bothering him?”

Gemma can think of a couple things that are bothering him. Mostly Louis. But Louis is the kind of *bothering Harry needs right now.

“Yes, probably.” 

The lie comes easy. Gemma knows Harry is suffering from denial. He denies evidence that tech-nerd is a good cover for camboy. She believes Louis is not only gay, but that he is most likely a bottom. This fuels her meddling in her brother’s affairs. There were always “issues” with Harry and Nick. They were never really compatible. But Louis? 

This time Louis doesn’t hesitate to response to Gemma. “I can take care of him! I mean it, his rents. I have two jobs, and the rent is the same whether it’s me living alone or the two of us sharing. If Harry wants to stay in London, he should.”

His words were so rushed and with so little hesitation Gemma has to believe she has Louis pegged. Not pegged in the strap-on sense but in the intuitive guess of his orientation. Her beautiful little brother has always been desired by men, and women, but the male beauty is what is attractive to Harry. Besides, the way Harry pines over Louis, fearing honestly, confirms Louis has already taken Harry’s heart. Chakra secured.

“Are you sure? It’s an expensive flat. Ass-hat ex-roommate had caviar taste. Harry could do with less posh but none of us had warning that Harry would come home to a half-empty flat in time to change in living arrangements.”

“I know what you are referring to Gemma. You don't have to disguise what was between Harry and Nick. It didn’t take Nick dropping by, studying me bum for me to know he likes men and is, as you said, an ass-hat. But I can take care of Harry, his rents, I mean.”

Their conversation is going far better than Gemma could dream. When Louis pauses next she doesn't want push to the edge of betraying her brother’s trust. 

“Are you sure? Harry said one of your jobs is only a part-time thing, how are you going to manage?”

Louis answers again with haste. “I can manage!” 

Louis catches himself. The leap to answer sounds eager so he slows down his assurance. 

”It’s true, I work two jobs, I only need the second one to save for going overseas. Me job at the store is secure, they keep offering me more hours because some staff are afraid to come to work given health risks. I’m no longer just stocking, I clerk now too and that pays more. Also the computer lab will close when the entire campus shuts down but those of us equipped to do so can be a call-in center for staff and students who need remote tech service. I don’t know if you noticed at the party but I have a very advance remote system. I can do almost anything from me room.”

Gemma stifles her first thought _“oh I bet you can”_. Instead of that what comes out of her mouth is not suggestive. 

”Oh, okay, that makes me feel a little better to know. Maybe you could talk to Harry about what he wants, you know, without telling him that we’ve talked? I will work on our mum, though she might still insist Harry come home. He’s not a child but she has always been very protective of him, her youngest...her baby. When the thing happened in Africa she went into massively protective-mum overdrive. It is not the healthiest for Harry to have her doting on him. He’s _a big boy_ after all.”

Once more Gemma amuses herself with her choice of words. suggestive innuendo she resists to avoid ruining this fateful accommodation. Unlike living with Nick, who was always stiff and reserved, Louis is freer, lighter, playful. His mix of compassion and playfulness is pure sunshine should her brother allow himself to bask in it.

Abruptly Louis turns to an honestly about Harry that catches Gemma by complete surprise. 

“Gemma, I know what it is that Harry has. He doesn't talk about it but me mum is a nurse. I’ve seen his meds. I shared the list with her and she told me his meds are for a neurological immuno disease like MS. Also before I met him I heard rumors about this bloke, went to Africa, got Ebola and it weaponized some HIV variant, according to an ex. 

“That is actually the first thing I asked me mum about before I went to see the flat because it seemed like a nasty and improbable rumor. The type of rumor that only a lover starts in spite. Then when Nick dropped by, he seemed the type to be such a twat. His behavior painted a picture of someone who would make up a story but then feel guilty later. I imagine the shiny, new doctor Grimshaw couldn't be burdened with a partner who is blind, or in wheel chair, maybe drools. I keep hoping Harry will open up to me but he is very guarded.” 

“Louis...I’m, I... I can’t say,” Gemma is unable to stop the tears of relief, “how much it means that you've figured this out on your own and you are being so, so... I dont even know what you are, compassionate doesn't describe it fully enough.” 

Maybe Louis is humbled because again he has another long pause. To the complement he says nothing after the long hesitation. When he does respond he merely brushes it off and claims he needs to get back to work. 

*** 

Harry creates two piles of folded clothes as he sorts the freshly cleaned into a his and a Louis-pile while in conversation with his mum on speaker phone.

“I have to admit that I feel a little guilty now that rents are due. It has been a massively crazily busy week for him.” Harry tells Anne. “Despite the campus closure and the stay at home order Louis is constantly working. Either he is at Smithies, or like he is now, in his room, computers in use, talking someone through a technical problem.” 

“Poor dear, I feel uncomfortable with this arrangement too. I’d really love to speak with him, to thank him personally for covering the rents.” 

“Gonna have to wait mum, he is over thirty minutes into a call with an elderly professor for the fifth time this week. This prof Louis has to help every time the prof does his online teaching. Louis makes a joke about him being so in old, that he was around before Franklin identified electricity. Louis does this impersonation of the prof making a funny old-person voice to share with me dialogue of clueless about technology he is.” 

“Does he really? That’s kinda cute. What kind of things does he have this elder gentleman say?” 

“It’s really silly stuff like the prof suggesting when he was a wee lad he had a pet dinosaur and Louis uses words like ‘new-fangled’ and pantomimes the bloke. Louis says he refers to the keyboard as a typewriter. Amazingly Louis never looses his temper with people like this no matter how inept they are. He laughs about it with me but is always such a gentleman with the callers.” 

“I hope to meet this roommate of yours once this quarantine thing is over. Gemma describes him much like you have, amusing, adorable. I have a picture of him being small, she calls Louis your little pixie-pan roommate. So what are you doing right now Harry since have me on speaker?” 

“I’m folding laundry, mine and Louis’. I figure the least I can do is tackle most of the chores. Besides, Louis is a massively sloppy roommate. Never washes a dish. Anytime I’m doing my laundry I throw his in the wash too. Oh, and I’ve sewn a bunch of masks for him to wear to work. Did them so they have a pocket where he can slide a hepa filter into between two layers of fabric so they are comfortable, washable and not as ugly as those single use masks that the store provides them. I tried to make them in fabric colors that show off his pretty blue eyes.” 

Harry stopped himself there but it was too late. 

“Pretty blue eyes Harry? You don’t have a crush on him now, do you?” 

The lie comes easy because it is a lie Harry tells himself constantly. “No, of course not. He’s not even my type. Has a girlfriend too.” 

“Okay darling, if you say so. I got a very distunct impression about him from what Gemma has said. I’m so very grateful for his sharing a flat he alone pays for and I hope he is careful going out in the community to work in public. Concern for what he be exposed to is why I thought it best you quarantine here.” 

“Mum he is very careful. He began doing this thing when he comes home that is next-level cautious. The roommate who never picks up, began removing his clothes as soon as he gets home, pulling them off inside out and putting them right into his laundry bin that he keeps right inside our front door. Then he goes directly to shower. I can dump the clothes right into the washing machine without touching them so even though he is out there around people he isn’t taking risks that he brings home to me.” 

Anne and Harry finish their call. As he creates two separate piles of folded clothing on the kitchen table, he comes across the one shirt he has washed twice now. The first time he encountered the shirt it was when Louis had just moved in. This recent washing means he had worn it again, sometime about a week ago or right before quarantine began. 

The thin, skimpy shirt could be easliy concealed under those hoodies he always wears. And like the first time Harry collected Louis laundry this rag-like shirt was carelessly clumped on the closet floor in Louis’ bedroom. Distinct, unforgettable, Harry anoints it with a name, “Attacked by a bear”, he says aloud to himself given that he has seen a shirt curiously similar to this before. At the club. The night before he would meet his would-be new roommate.

Something like it was worn by a lad who was grinding on one leg of a strapping lad, brawny and fit. The smaller lad never turned Harry’s way as he rutted himself of the alpha he may have let take him home. 

Louis’ shirt, now washed, no longer carries any scents but Harry detected the stench of stale cigarette odor on it when he retrieved it to include in the loads of laundry. Louis was with someone who smokes, the occasion being right before stay-at-home orders and campus shutdown, and with someone important enough for Louis to have a hookup with. Louis made no mention of this, only spoke of insanely over-booked his day was. Eleanor comes to mind. 

The idea of Louis with Eleanor has Harry seething and muttering to himself. “Right Styles, you absolutely don’t need to have a thing for your unavailable roommate.” 

*** 

_What do you mean talk you off a cliff? Mum said you sounded great when she talked with you last._

_Yes, well that was then and this is now. I can’t take it anymore, this annoying thing Louis has been doing._

Gemma is surprised by a sudden change in Harry. Sure quarantine has been going on for a few weeks, but Harry has seemed quite happy being the domestic of the two roommates with Louis covering their bills. Her brother was constantly baking and proudly describing in detail when treats he makes Louis raves about. They have sounded very much like a married couple, in a routine, and kind of doting on each other. While Harry would bake favorites of Louis’, Louis would buy Harry’s preferred foods for keeping his roomy stocked with “that dreadfully healthy shit” Harry incorporates in his wellness diet. 

_So what is it? We’ve thought is was going great between you. And mum said she got a handwritten thank you note back from Louis in response to her letter thanking him. He wrote something really sweet, assuring it was fine covering the flat, what could go wrong so suddenly?_

There’s a long thought bubble indicating Harry is writing his reply but maybe re-writing words that don't come out easily or the way he wants them to. 

_It’s what he does when he get home from the store._

_Such as?_

_He comes in the front door and immediately takes everything off right down to his briefs._

_So? Mum said you two have some haz-mat protocol you follow with his laundry, so what is wrong?_

_THATISIT!!!_ Harry must be writing another followup text. _At first it was an accident, or so I thought, when he switched to pulling off his briefs at the front door too. But he keeps doing that. It is one thing to see him walking from front door to bathroom barely clothed, but sis...his bare bum...this is an over-share...it is so mouth-wateringly succulent that a peach would be shamed_

Two more consecutive texts from Harry come in rapid-fire. The text of _“idk...”_ is followed by a dramatic _”I think he is trying to kill me.”_

____

Gemma lets out a scream of exasperation. She stops texting and calls her brother. 

“Harry stop with the drama, what do you mean? Louis isn't trying to kill you.” 

“You know what I mean. It was one thing to see his bum in his tiniest of briefs as he walks away, but this, bare bum waving in my face...it’s gonna be the death of me. As soon as he is in the shower I sprint to my room to wack off because the sight of his ass is too much. And now the problem is I’m running out of lube and the only way I can buy more is to add it to the grocery list! Can you see the problem? ‘Oh hey Louis can you please get some kamut flour, chicken breasts, avocados, plums, bananas ...lubricant, better make it a large vat of lube’...” 

____

Her brother’s torture has Gemma sent into hysterics. Harry protests in the background as she takes a long time composing herself and offering sage advice. 

____

“Harry, you idiot. You only have yourself to blame for this penned up sexual frustration. Talk to the guy! It’s time to tell him you are gay and that you find him attractive, either that or you have to construct a temporary changing room for inside your flat.” 

____

Gemma laughs again as Harry tries to give her a litany of excuses for his rationale. 

____

*** 

____

His sister is right. 

____

He’s gonna have to talk to Louis. He has gotten so lost in his lust that the simple anticipation of Louis coming home in a few hours causes him to need to wank off. 

____

He has just finished cleaning himself up when to his surprise Louis quickly keys in. Like protocol, Louis pulls off his oversized hoody making it inside-out and dropping it into the bin. Next off is his pants, briefs too though they catch on one foot as his balance is off in his extreme haste. 

“What the fuck, Louis?” Harry’s shocked by another oddity. Louis was wearing a disposable mask over his nose and mouth not one of Harry’s custom made masks like he left for work with. All the mundane mask served to do was magnify the shocking appearance of what was blood saturating it. 

____

Louis marches through the flat, closing the bathroom door only offering, “Brawl at the store.” 

____

The sound of water running tells Harry he is showering. Looking back at the bin where blood-soiled clothing was deposited Harry can’t believe this. What on earth could have triggered such violence?

____


	12. Defenseless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Defenseless and Golden. Enjoy!
> 
> (It’s more than a little miserable working through this without my Beta, the lovely Babypinklouis. Gotta hope everyone/(bpl) is staying healthy.) 💛🍑💛

Relieved when the water stops running without any sounds of duress from Louis, Harry, ever patient and vigilant outside the door, calls to Louis. 

“Louis? Can I come in?”

Following a faintly soft “yes” Harry opens the door which reveals Louis out of the shower, dripping wet, a towel haphazardly dangling in front of him as he is reaching for a bottle of meds at the sink rather than drying himself first. 

It hurts to see Louis like this. Spots that were bleeding, one on his right cheekbone, another left of his mouth, are no longer bloody but they remain bright red hinting they will go purple. Elsewhere on his exposed form are bruises developing into a range of shades. These larger, unbloodied blemishes tell a different story as does the way Louis shows strain to keep ahold of a towel with one hand that also grips the edge of the sink as he struggles with opening a lid of pills one-handedly.

Harry rushes to Louis’ aid, taking the lid off extracting two tablets before filling a glass of water to hand to him. Notably Louis keeps his grip on the sink as he swallows the pills. Once he finishes all the water he steadfastly makes no effort to return Harry’s look to him, not even through their reflections in the mirror.

The lack of any bruising on Louis’ hands tells some of the story. This assault was met with a defenselessness. Louis wasn't able to strike back. 

“Louis, what happened?”

Louis exhales a noise that says dread and pain in one blended sound. He almost teeters where he is stood which has Harry taking him in a hold that elicits another sound, a mix of muted protest and pain. Harry makes use of the towel to bring Louis into his control while minimizing contact with Louis’ body as he suspects all of Louis, at least from waist on might have yet unrevealed bruising.

“Brawl, I just moved from clerking duty to cleaning carts, stocking more wipes and masks at the doors when these two blokes began arguing with the clerk that took over my register. Mary, is like a nanna, old, tiny and they wouldn't hear of her enforcing the limits on number of containers of wipes each customer can purchase at a time. I stepped in, the punching began.”

Louis makes no objection to the way Harry moves him along from bathroom to bedroom. Escorting Louis to gingerly sit him on the bed, Harry dries Louis where the towel had not been in contact before easing Louis into a reclined position all the while trying to keep as much of Louis blanketed with the towel. This was in respect for Louis’ modesty as well as for shielding himself from the effects of seeing a naked body that Harry would, on another occasion, like nothing more than to study every inch.

“Where was everyone else?” This garners a confused expression from Louis, his brows furrow, as his lips part like to speak, but he looses focus on the intention. It occurs to Harry that Louis may have waves of pain. “Never mind, just relax. I’ll be right back with some ice.”

... 

Ice packs in hand, Harry returns to a Louis who has shifted. Shifted toward the middle of the bed, and closed his eyes.

Harry whispers, “Louis, I’m gonna put these where I think they should be but you tell me what you need.”

Whimper is not quite the sound Louis makes, but it’s close. Accompanying the sound is Louis taking his lower lip to bite, which would be sexy as fuck in the right situation, but all this lip-bite signals is that it is a sign that Louis is suffering the care as best he can.

Harry wants to understand how a grocery store with many, many clerks, and many other _male_ employees on hand could fail to abandon other tasks to end this commotion. It is unfathomable how a smallish, nerdy Louis was solely responsible for some act of security but one of Louis’ finely delicate hands lightly pulls at Harry’s to make the ice pack be moved. Harry’s questions evaporate. 

Louis mumbles, “Don’t ask me to talk.” 

A shading deepening rapidly where there is a bruise near Louis’ mouth suggests the luxury of speech comes at a cost. Harry decides not to pry as his heart gets that kind of pang. The sight of somebody else’s... _Louis’_ pain is too hard to witness.

“Louis, can I slide here beside you to keep these areas iced to your liking?”

“Um hum.” Louis mumbles.

With great care Harry slips beside his battered roommate pulling a blanket over them. A little shiver from Louis proceeds moving icepacks again by repositioning Harry’s hands to his liking. Harry finds himself left in an awkward, uncomfortable sort of pretzeled twist. 

Harry doesn't care. 

He has his face so close the the back of Louis’ neck that the scent of Louis and his clean hair infuses Harry’s senses with imagery. These images piece together a bit of what Harry has collected from every time he has seen Louis’ bare skin, what Louis did in his camboy reel and what he detects as he encroaches closer to Louis with his chest pressing gainst Louis’ back. His legs bent so his knees can couch into the backside of Louis’ legs. Harry restrains the impulse to push his crotch into the backside of Louis’ bum; that would be a total violation of respectful contact. They are merely roommates; roommates dangerously close to being over the line of a platonic measure of distance.

 _Aide and comfort, aide and comfort, aide and comfort..._ Harry repeats to himself. He waits until Louis’ breathing has a rhythm of sleep before he takes the ice packs away. From out in their living room the sound of Louis’ phone giving off chirps is a familiar tell-tale to signal the phone is getting messages. Given the hour it is unlikely that these are messages from the Uni crowd seeking remote tech help. Harry assumes the chimes are messages from the store. He gives it very little more thought before sleep takes him. Dreams fold into his reality.

Dreams. A wet dream is what he is woken from by a stirring in the bed beside him. It’s too early to call it morning, but in Harry’s calculation Louis is becoming restless with discomfort.

“Louis, I’m getting you some pills. Be right back.”

The ice packs rendered room temperature Harry gathers a couple bags of frozen peas to apply after he has pills and water in hand. It takes a persistence to get Louis to roll to his back, wake enough to follow the instructions of “take these”, “drink this”.

The question of “Where do you want these cool packs?” receives no answer. Harry does his best while slipping himself tight to his patient; well, as tight as he dare. He'd like to resume his last dream. A dream of Louis doing the camboy show with the conversation being altered to insert Louis saying his name. Not “Harry” but his gamer name, Curly Legs, though most of the time dream-Louis shortens it to Curly.

... 

As the hour of dawn approaches Harry, accustom to waking early to start his baking, jolts when one of the computer monitors lights up with a message coming onto the screen. 

It’s encrypted, Harry is not close enough to read the string twice to confirm it before it disappears. He thinks the message said “Tease28 request a 50HalfPipe. FernSku657”.

Tease28?

A fifty half pipe? 

Fern Sku 657?

***

Fresh brioche is going into the over when someone knocks at the door. Following an hour of intermittent chirps from Louis’ phone, which remains laying on the floor where Louis dropped it, the knock confirms that someone is persistent in tyring to reach Louis.

Donning a mask, Harry opens the door. 

“Niall?”

It is a surprise to see Niall standing there wearing a mask, gloves and a grocers’ smock with bearing the Smithies emblem. At the threshold of the door is a box that Niall placed before he knocked.

“Hi Harry, how is Louis?”

“Niall? You work at the store now?”

In Niall’s typical affable fashion he gestures at his attire, the smock and despite the mask his smile is evident in the changes in his bright blue eyes. 

”No I just like to go around dressed like this! Of course! Louis didn't mention it? I told Louis when I got released from my regualr job, Louis said they needed to hire since so many employees had to take leave for their safety.”

Niall looks past Harry expectantly and repeats his question. 

“Louis, how is he?”

Harry wants to invite Niall in and for the first time it has nothing to do with a crush. For Harry obsession is becoming only Louislouislouis.

“He is a mess, still sleeping. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know exactly. I wasn't at work at the time but the story I heard was Louis was working the task of curbside carry-outs. For some reason a pair of thugs pounced on him. By the time other employees rushed to him, Louis was on the ground.”

“You sure it was curbside, it didn’t start inside the store?”

“No, is that what Louis said?”

“Not really, I’m making an assumption because he always talks about how the customers are over-buying.”

Niall takes the lie with his usual ease. 

“Well I’m to deliver these. The owner wants to be sure Louis has some things for his care, I guess Louis didn’t want to get treatment. He refused, saying something like he couldn’t risk going where there are a lot of sick people and possibly bring Covid, home...”

Niall stops and studies Harry who suddenly feels very *un-masked. 

“...they say he said someone at home is at high risk... Harry? Is there something about you that only your roommate knows...”

Niall pauses again before he presses “...are you...you were in Africa, the rumors about a student having Ebola and HIV...” 

Harry’s chest feels a vacuum. His gut contracts like he was hit with a sucker punch as anxiety cascades over him. 

Niall’s eyes widen. “It’s true then? It’s you?”

A tiny sound like a cough takes Niall’s scrutiny off Harry. 

The well-timed distraction has Harry turning to see Louis leaning against the wall at the intersection of hall and living room. He swears only some sweats so the littering of bruises are entirely too evident of his discomfort. 

“Niall, what’s going on?” Louis slowly comes forward but only as far as to the couch like he hadn’t the strength to be out of bed.

Niall is almost propelled to enter with an apparent urge to comfort his visibly pained friend. 

“I’m doing home deliveries today. Henry asked me to bring these things he gathered for you. He has been trying to reach you by phone tell you know not to come in until you feel completely better and until they have found the assailants. When I got to the store the authorities were going through survelance camera footage and compiling witness statements. You haven't replied to your phone so Henry wants to make sure your okay since you refused to be taken to get medical care.  


”He also put some cash in the box too, advance on your next paycheck. Everyone at the store is worried about you. They all say it was unprovoked and fast, like, it was personal, and well-thought out...”

Hearing Niall’s reporting of the happenings creates an uninterpretable expression on Louis’ face. Niall’s pause is not met with any conflicting statement from Louis. Louis merely rubs his torso near a couple bruises while shaking his head “no” in silence.

A visible shiver sends Harry rushing to get Louis a hoodie. A soft “thanks” from Louis who pulls on the hoodie without ever looking him in the eye proceeds responding to Niall. 

“I don’t know them. It’s not personal.”

Niall scratches his head and takes on the more affable nature that is his brand. “Henry also said the authorities have probably tried calling you, left information who is in charge of the case, but the store wants to press charges for some property damage to send a message. Any assault charges will have to come directly from you. Your are essential for identifying the wankers. You need to make a statement.”

“But I don't know them. They wore masks...I don’t want to make any trouble.”

The long-standing relationship between them becomes evident when Niall presses Louis more, with a reassuring softness to his ..... “Louis, the consistency between multiple witnesses, they all concur on how the slurs they heard suggest the wankers knew you. That they targeted you. They all heard things about you at a club with them, some use derogatory homosexual language. If you don’t know them, then they have you mistaken for someone who looks like you.”

Louis’ hands go to his head fingers becoming momentarily lost in the messy bedhead hair as he protests more emphatically, “But I don’t know them!”

Louis’ exasperation brings Harry to his side. Putting arms around him, Harry’s anxious state is replaced with one of protectiveness. 

“Niall, this is not the time. That’s enough. He says he doesn’t know them. Thanks for bring the stuff. Please tell your employer that Louis will be in touch with the police after a little rest.”

Niall’s mask doesn't hide his shame for sending Louis into a terrible state. He pushes the box forward into the flat, backs away and sounds generally embarrassed when he says “I’m just the messenger. Henry thought it best to send me because we are best mates. Everybody at Smithies loves you Louis. You do what you are comfortable doing. To say the crew is upset and outraged is an understatement.”

... 

Two cups of tea later, one barely nibbled on brioche abandoned on a plate Louis finally makes eye contact with Harry. 

The first eye contact since he came home battered all to say a very soft sincere “thank you” that is barely piped out loud enough to be audible if it weren’t for Harry sitting close to him, an arm sort of around him. 

“Sort of” describes the near embrace as his arm rests along the couch above Louis’ shoulders but not making any contact. This is purposeful. Harry yearns to bring Louis into him but fears hurting him. He also fears sending Louis the wrong message and things are already getting ahead of him; Louis knows Harry has compromised health. 

Worse yet Niall left thinking Harry is the student who contracted Ebola in Africa and also carries some weaponized variant of HIV. Did Louis believe that? 

*** 

_What’s he doing now?_

_Sleeping. He worked extra hours today doing tech support to catch up from the couple of days off. Afterwards we played games for a few hours, the entire time I kept trying to get him to eat more but he’s been odd since he spoke with the detective so he decided to go to bed early._

_And you didn’t hear anything of the statement he gave?_

_Nope. Not a word._

_How is he looking?_

_Worse! He is very black, blue and purple._

_And do you know when will he go back to the store?_

_Not sure, not until the bruises are faded and maybe not until they are found._

_Okay, well FaceTime us tomorrow when he is busy? Mum needs to see you. She has been odd too. Maybe your adorable smile will improve her mood._

Another text follows what Harry thought was the last in the string between them. _What about those weird messages? Have their been more of them?”_

_“Yes. A few.”_

___The emoji face says it all. Harry is glad his next conversation with his sister will include their mum. That will ensure his sister can’t share any of her theories about his roommate’s secret affairs. For now Harry can’t entertain any such notions of fantasies about Louis. Louis is too vulnerable and shaken by the assualt and Harry would rather apply his efforts to comfort through baking and the occasional near-cuddle._ _ _

*** 

One night of sleeping with Louis, harmless as it was, has left Harry with vivid dreams permeating each of the following nights. He wakes this morning a little later than his norm after a night that was by far his most intensely riddled with erotic, Louis-centric dreams. 

Like most dreams are some parts that make no sense, others that tell a story. Little pieces of what Harry dreamed had such reality to them that he wakes to his cock is posting with quite an urgent need. 

Racing from his room to the bathroom he sees Louis’ door is open. It’s a sign of how late he overslept that there is a juxtaposition of their routines. Harry hears some noises from the kitchen as he closes the bathroom door. A few minutes into his handjob he hears Louis talking. In some way this revitalizes his replay of his dream to hear Louis with some words muted by walls between them. The similarity of Louis’ how words through the barriers of walls become mostly undecipherable. At least they serve to reconstruct a similar perception of the dream and therein speed along the task in hand of Harry’s happy finish. 

He cleans up the splatters, careful to not leave a trace, when he notices something strange. A few places, mostly where its easy to overlook like the exterior side of the sink or slightly under it, are some smudges of some thing golden in color. Harry swipes a finger over one of the shimmering smudges and his finger picks up what looks like a golden tinted cream, like makeup or eyeshadow. 

Harry rubs the substance between his finger and thumb utterly perplexed by what this could be. He puts aside the stranger things when he hears Louis come to the door. 

“Your up, good? I was talking to Niall, he just left the early shift on his way to drop by some fresh produce.” 

Confident the cleanup took care of all residues, golden and not, Harry opens the door. He lets out a little breath at the sight of Louis, not that Louis is free of all bruises and yet somehow his being refreshed gives off a little sunshine that whittles its way into Harry’s heart. 

“That’s so nice, we were getting low on some things.” 

The two head toward the kitchen with Louis leading, his damn oversize hoodie concealing his bum, much to Harry’s dismay. 

“I know. He called last night needing a thumbdrive and I asked him if he could pick up a few items for us on his next shift. I know how _my Curly_ likes his fresh produce.” 

As they approach the kitchen Harry sees that Louis has things scattered around a blender that he has filled. It looks to have some yogurt, a banana and berries in it as well as a few other ingredients. Louis puts his hand on the lid and presses the start button. An assortment of individual components turns into a deep purple slurry. 

The blender off, Louis resumes talking, rambling off what he asked Niall to bring and what exactly he put in the blender for making Harry a smoothie. Harry is still absorbing what he is seeing. Louis being uncharacteristically domestic, making a healthy smoothie right down to including fresh grated ginger in the blend. 

There is a knock at the door. “Oh hey, go to me room and grab a drive for me? You know, from on me desk.” 

Charged with the task Harry hears Louis open the door to greet Niall. Louis thanks Niall for selecting and bring the produce. 

“No problem, and thank you! I ordered a couple drives over a week ago, still haven’t got them. I guess so many people are ordering things these days everything takes much longer to deliver.” 

Niall begins to relay messages from fellow Smithies employees. Harry can hear them talking from where he is at Louis’ cluttered and crowded work desk with the bedroom door wide open. 

_On the desk, not in it_. 

Those words are burned into Harry’s brain. 

Harry takes a drive from on the desk but not without noticing something. A gold residue is on the drawer that contains the box of drives. In the darkened room that is perennially lit with fairy lights a golden shimmer of smudges pops. 

Intrigued, Harry opens the drawer. Among the many drives in the box one stands out. It too has the golden residue. Harry pulls this one out. Touching it has his fingers picking up some of the gold-dust. Intrigue is spurred on and, as he can hear Louis and Niall are still engaged in talking. 

Harry chances putting this drive into one of Louis’ up and running laptops. 

A simple click and the answer is revealed. Harry only allows himself a split second before he closes out and pulls the drive. 

In a fleeting the Harry witnesses a head to toe gold-painted Louis was taking position on his bed toys in hand. His entire body having a shimmer. The coverage had the dual effect of masking his bruises and accentuating his beauty. The “game” he was about to play was recorded and this was done upon his early retirement to bed the night before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the 19th of January my fic for the BLFF2020 is released!!!
> 
> The “Joker is Wild” is like a copy of a copy of a copy in that it is a fic within a fic within a fic. It is a very HappilyLarryEverafter, written for a prompt I correctly surmised, my lovely Elmara submitted. I hope you all will read my fic and the many others by far more talented authors who participated in the 2020 fest. Share your thoughts, any kudos and such with them. Writing is a lonely space. Your thoughts fill the vacuum!


	13. Golden

Returning with a drive, Harry finds Louis is pouring him a smoothie as Niall lingers outside their door engrossed in conversation about Liam and Zayn. Harry hands the drive to Louis who playfully tosses it at Niall from a distance like a person would toss a dog a treat saying “Catch!”

Niall nearly misses given how unexpectedly quick Louis did the toss.

“Thanks.” Niall says as he blushes over his clumsiness. “Will you be back to Smithies soon?”

The sunniness of Louis’ demeanor fades with the question. “Don’t know.”

Harry sips his smoothie, humming a out its tastiness and studies the little changes in Louis’ face. The changes are a hint that he doesn’t want to be bothered with the subject of the altercation. 

“Money will get tight without working there, won’t it.”

Louis gets a deeper furrow to his brows and a notable sternness in his tone. “No worries, Niall. I got it covered.”

This time Niall gets the hint. He offers to pay for the drive, Louis refuses that but after accepting Niall’s second thanks he claims he needs to cut short their chat to begin his remote tech support work closing the door on Niall. 

Louis never starts tech support this early. Harry continues sipping his smoothie and silently observes Louis as Louis puts produce away and does a horrible job of cleaning up the mess he made to serve Harry. His posture, something about the stiff carriage of his shoulders say he is bothered by Niall’s last question.

Harry must be too intense in his study because Louis stops what he is doing. 

“What Harry? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.”

“If you’re worried about money too, don’t be. I got this.” Louis tosses a dish cloth into the sink and takes a change of tone from a frustrated note to normal. “Wanna play something with me on xbox?”

“Sure, but you have to get to work?”

“Not this early. Niall was annoying me.”

...

Louis has been at work for several hours when Harry brings him some tea. He has someone on speaker phone and two screens open in front of him. A third screen slightly off to the side of Louis’ desk gets a message as Louis is looking at one of the other screens, navigating a student through some problem and only taking distraction from the task to nod a thanks to Harry without breaking the flow of the assistance.

The message “Tease 28 peach-juice3 Tiger018” disappears quickly after its brief appearance. 

Besieged with work that has him preoccupied, Louis won’t notice what Harry is doing when he should be busy with his own online work of learning. Harry takes his own cup of tea to his room to set the idea he too is at work but when he has closed his door the drive he puts into his laptop is not his own.

The game begins with a golden-coated but otherwise bare Louis crouching on his bed, a couple toys in hand. One is a pink vibrator, smooth and no bigger than a small banana. The other is longer, greater circumference, is a string of dark purple anal beads.

Louis begins some deliberatively subtle dirty talk. What Harry hears is one-sided but Harry can guess what the one on the other side is saying. Probably some begging. 

”Tease28” is Louis. This is evident by watching a second game, if you can call it a game, but then again from Louis’ side of the conversation it seems obvious that these are cum-play games. The other player in this case has a name like Tiger018 or Fern Sku 657 and what the play is given has a code like peach-juice3, 50halfpipe... 

Louis doesn't just play these games he is the master of them. He is rutting himself with the vibrator yet to begin any sort of penetrating moves. Quickly Harry has an orgasm building while at the very same time the star of this feature is at work in the room next to his. That Louis is nerdish, diminutive, wearing glasses and nothing like the one Harry is watching. 

Coated in a sheen of gold, touching himself just so, undulating his lithe form to make every muscle work so what is tiny, like his waist, or voluptuous, like his bum, is accentuated, the Louis on the screen is a god of sorts. 

Presenting his back-side for enjoyment of his fingering, this he alternates with presses of the tip of the vibrator to his hole, slight penetration of the tip of one digit only just so teasingly before switching to stimulating the same pink puckering with the vibrations. This makes his entrance take a more rosy-warming color in contrast to its initially pristine shade of pale pink. With his leg muscles engaged in his positioning the gold-dust makes Louis’ sumptuous thighs look all the more luscious. This in turn accentuates how small his waist, how delicate his torso, how architectural his shoulders are. Every divot, whether it is those on the back of his pelvis or those above his collarbones, are made more tempting dusted in gold. 

The gold-hued body paint explains the early to bed. Louis mist have taken hours carefully applying the bruise-camouflaging makeup. Very early into the game, Louis having not yet begun to play at deepening penetration, Harry has an orgasm. It sneaks up on him so fast catching him by surprise. He muffles his outburst yet fears Louis may have heard him but a few seconds of listening intently gives no indication that Louis has left his station of computers. Harry lets the game play on.

Louis shift to lay on his back resting with his legs parted he begins penetrating himself shallow with the vibrator that he has switched off for this intro. He talks about how tight he is and for the first time he talks to the person with gender-identifiers; “daddy would feel so good pushing his big daddy-cock in me tight walls”. 

Watching the series of shallow penetrations, Louis talking about daddy-cock, has Harry immediately hard again. Meanwhile on the screen Louis holds off coming despite making more mewing noises as he works his body with the vibrator. His cock shows his pleasure as its posts straight up unwavering with its firmness. 

What happened next with the live-action is captured in the recording of Louis’ side of the conversation where Louis taunts the other player. He tells them that if they come now the game is over; he won’t cum for them. He chastises them for what must be pleads for them to orgasm and not be kicked out of the game. 

”Don’t make me close you out.” Louis says cooly of the imagined plea. “I’ll open up for another player if you disappoint me.” 

Louis makes a shift tossing aside the vibrator and taking the anal beads. He squirts some lube on the toy and the reason for his restraint in using them becomes apparent as the presence of lube creates the risk of eroding some of the carefully applied makeup. Louis resumes how he first started, bum facing the camera, stood on his knees with them planted wide and when he puts a hand on one cheek to pull it aside to tease with the sight of his hole this leaves a handprint on the cheek when he lets it go. 

The handprint reminds Harry of discoveries of the art of ancient peoples. Louis’ bum so big, his hand so small, it has Harry coughing with a laugh and the wish that his hands could be smearing that body paint, his body taking the gold off Louis from every contact with his. Surely the gamer in play must have thought the same. 

This seems to be the case as Louis wiggles his bum before putting the first bead against his entrance. The beads are easily larger than an inch diameter around. Seeing lube dripping off the first one sliding over a berry-colored, wanting hole demands Harry seizes his cock, in hand with it weeping again. 

Louis pushes the first bead in and lets his muscular rim expel it. The effect on Harry is to elicit a loud moan that he forgot to muffle. 

Momentary panic for fear of discover evaporates when Louis chastises his player again. “Daddy has how many inches for his slutty boy? Come only when me arse is stuffed with every inch of you.” 

”Louuuisss,” Harry mutters. 

Louis means to take one bead for every inch until his daddy says stop or comes prematurely. Louis begins to dip one bead, then two, making several shallow penetrations with just this before he adds a third. This shallow repeated penetrations he makes intoxicatingly by telling of his sensations, “so good doing you like this”, “taking daddy’s knob, just his knob”, “teasing me ever so slight.” 

Four beads, five, Louis’ body is so warm some of his gold-dust becomes more sheer with perspiration. He snaps Harry to attention by the surprise of slapping his bum where there was no handprint. With that the second hand print left is red from the strike so hard. 

Was that a request of his partner? Harry imagines this could have been a coy idea to push or punish his partner. Push is what it does for Harry. His erupts, nearly forgets to choke back his need to call out the pleasure.

By the time Harry has managed to open his eyes Louis looks to have embedded more beads, his golden body has some areas with more lessening of tint. Most notably his big bum has a reddening hue and while one hand holds the toy with his other he starts to rhythmically slap one cheek, deepening the red and creating a sound like two bodies make when cock riding has them slamming together. This whipping Louis continues until he first starts to cum, falling forward. 

Face down on his bed Louis moans, mumbles, most likely doing this so he can be loud but unheard by his roommate in the next room who presumed he went to bed early. Louis was quick to spread his legs so in his sprawled position, each time he rut his crotch on the bed under himself, spearing cum, he could show from the angel of the camera his body’s response. 

Thighs were quaking, his hand kept the string of beads many in number deep, he bob his bum ever so slight that allowed for the fairy light to dance on the image of the last bead inserted being clenched upon as it had to be held in place to avoid being expelled from the spasms of his muscular rim. 

Louis maintains this compression of beads plunged deep until he most certainly has milked himself of all cum. Only then does he slowly ease the beads out. A bead an inch, Harry counts. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” gasping Harry holds his breath and in silence watches as two more beads come out. Once removed Louis holds his ample cheeks aside for the delight of seeing how wrecked he is. 

An resemblance of a puckered entrance is obliterated. What remains is a spasming rim trying to restore. Louis finds the vibrator and following a roll to turn over to his back he stuffs the humming toy into himself. This has him humming too. His bent legs, knees wide give some view of his process mostly when he raises his bum. The humming, his filthy, pleased-with-himself story that falls from his lips can only be meant to torment. After much filthy talk about what was he turns to what can be. 

“Me arse so hot, wants more daddy, wish you were here to fill me again, breed me with that massive cock of yours, make me cry for it,” Louis runs his free hand over himself. His fingers encircle his nipples a few times. He wets his fingers and does this more as he lifts his bum bobbing himself on his vibrator. Two effects of this are some more gold coming off and his spent cock perks ever so slight. 

“Daddy needs to hit pay again to see me finish, does daddy wanna see that?”


	14. Harry the baker, Louis the gamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I so hate that my beta is on hiatus. Please accept my typos. Kiss the one you love! 💚💙

Harry has dinner started when Louis comes out of his room. The glasses that shield his eyes don’t conceal the fatigue from a day of intense tutoring of the technologically inept.

Louis comes to the stove where Harry stands stirring a pot, wearing an apron and trying to stifle a blush that forms because of what he knows. 

“What smells so good?”

“Barley stew”

“Mmm, that does smell good but an hour ago some other delightful smell wafted through the flat.”

Louis is so close to Harry that his warmth is felt by Harry. Louis doesn’t notice as he is peering into the deep soup pot how Harry doesn’t chance a look at him. 

“The thing you smelled earlier was the home made bread. It’s sitting in the oven to keep warm.”

“You made bread... from scratch? Of course you did, Harry Styles, baker. You know it sounds more like your calling than Harry Styles Hospital Administrator.”

“What’s in this?” Louis asks as Harry spoons out the large bay leaf he was searching for with a spoon. 

Harry feels himself tingling like a blush might resurge due Louis interest so he decides to divert attention away from what his face might reveal. Collecting some soup with his wooden spoon he blows on the small taste to cool it.

“Wanna sample the first taste, so you don’t turn up your nose when I list my healthy ingredients? “ 

What began an innocent act immediately catches Harry off guard as he had not thought this through. Offering Louis the taste has Louis closing his eyes and opening his mouth for the spoon feeding. This puts attention on his mouth, lips parting, so pink and the contrast of his dark, fanned-out eyelashes, luscious and long.

Harry feels a pang in his heart and a twitch of his dick. 

Accepting the bite Louis hums, “Mmm, s-soo good.”

Another pang, another twitch, Harry jumps away to rinse off the spoon allowing his back to be to Louis who has just conjured an image of his taking one’s knob, maybe to remove a bead of precum.

“Is there any meat in there?” Louis asks showing an unusual level of curiosity for Harry’s preparation. 

“No, but I did use some homemade broth I saved from the last time I cooked a whole chicken, so it has a base that makes it not a truly vegetarian dish.”

“When is it ready? I’m starving.”

Louis is still peering into the pot as Harry gathers some plates and bowls.

“It’s ready now, let’s eat.”

Harry places the dishes beside the stove and pulls the bread from the oven. Once he slices it he transfers the loaf to a bread basket and begins dishing up the soup. 

Louis shows it was genuine interest in the dish by asking again what else is in it. 

“In addition to broth and barley there is onion, garlic, celery, carrots, cabbage, potatoes, lentils, tomato sauce, I used some ancho chili powder, smoked paprika, the bay leaf, oh and I almost forgot,” Harry goes to the counter where he left a dish of diced herbs, “this is fresh cilantro and chives is for sprinkling on top.”

Louis dishes up two bowls of the soup handing one to Harry with a thanks said in a near purr-like delivery. That and his smile has Harry fighting the need to blush again. Harry tries to stifle his feeling with thoughts of the one thing that is a suppressant. 

“Nick never liked this recipe.”

Louis has taken his first two spoonfuls before he replies. “Well we can assume Nick hasn’t got very good judgement when it comes to cookingnow does he?”

With a bright smile that forms crinkles around his eyes Louis cements the idea that he doesn’t think much of Harry’s ex. It hints that the secrets Harry keeps are no secrets at all and Louis knows a thing or two about keeping secrets.

Harry smiles warmly back. He takes a slice of the bread fro himself and puts one on Louis’ plate too. 

“Try dipping the crustiest part of the bread into the soup, it’s really good like that.”

...

A few hours later they are sat on the couch playing games with Louis giving Harry affectionate grief for how badly Harry plays after all this time and for “getting me to eat cabbage and make me like it too!”

The mutually harmless exchange of shames is interrupted when Gemma begins texting Harry. Despite Louis looking only at the tv, Harry finds it awkward to be sat next to Louis while Gemma is texting about Harry’s recent share of the golden camboi. He moves to a comfy chair across the room giving Louis the faux explanation he has to focus on a conversation with his sister.

Louis nods, invites a player who games from some other place, perhaps a world apart from them in distance but whom Louis has some close relationship with as he falls into a natural ease, teasing banter much like he had been doing with Harry. Louis’ words, one side of a conversation with the remote gamer, seep into Harry’s text exchange with Gemma who opened their chat with “So what is the golden-boy up to today?” 

_Gemma stop! you’re killing me by encouraging me to think about it_

_Oh the drama Harry! you cant tell me you need me to make you think about him in a sexual way_

_You’re more than a little correct about that - as an example he just said to the new player “Oh, I’m so good, are you already gone? Just max it.” All I can think is how that it about them...you know, how Louis is sooo good, this player who he is a camboy for has an orgasm building, the player trying to stave it off when Louis says, basically beat himself off, and Louis will make him ‘pay to play’ again if he wants to see Louis finish._

_Whats Louis saying right now?_

_He asked “Why are you not waking up?” like they got killed and the other player is having a hard time coming back. sometimes someone taking a hit is a strategy in these games when two players are gaming together._

_And now what???_

_“Get it up, get up, get up.” And then he followed with “I’m just gonna slow it down to protect you” So my guess is that in this game Louis has more capacity than his partner._

Gemma replies with a string of lol emojis followed by _You realize that you just implied a lot of sexual inuendos...”get-up...get IT up” and he says hes gonna slow it down and then you, little brother, layer it on more like one of your cakes with “Louis has more capacity...aka Louis has more s t a m i n a....Your so dead Harry. Whats he saying now?_

_“Move forward? Better grab on to something...pray...You want me to slow it down? That’s what I was hoping you would say...I can hear you nearly crying?”_

Gemma responds with a longer string of lol emojis. To hear Louis sounds like a massive power bottom, the type to make her brother pleasingly cry. 

Driven so by his sister’s delight in his torture Harry can hardly contain laughing too and he knows if Louis were to look his way instead of engrossed in a purley harmless game he would see how Harry’s face is flushed and his track pants have a tent forming. 

The last text Harry quickly sends off before he jumps up to leave the room, go for a shower, a cold, cold one. The last Louis- share he can bear to forward to Gemma exactly as stated by his tech-nerd, game-focused roomy who is oblivious to the havoc he is reeking on Harry as he animatedly in the excitement of a game literally shouts is _“Please just grab on...I am begging you...ahhh...Oh my god. I’m on it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Mandapanda77 , if you are reading this today, that you are not among friends or worse 😱, at work, ha!


	15. The eggplant and the giant peach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Harry, “obviously” 🍑🍆

“And so today he went back to work at the grocery?” 

“Yes. His boss called last night right as we finished dinner, said they were still short-handed at the store, asked if the bruises were gone, at least I think. I know for sure that he asked if Louis had spoken with the authorities again, but then Louis left the room the longer they talked. Like he didn’t want me to hear what he was saying.”

“He is bruise free then, that’s good. Are you calling me to talk you are worried that he is at risk being there? That’s my sweet baby brother that I know and love.”

“Yes! Also I am torn. One part of me is glad he is back at the store rather than...well, you know.”

“Putting on a show?”

“Yes! Last night he said at dinner he was going to bed early. Immediately I think, right, sure you are, knowing he was going to play a game for money, taking whatever request from whatever random. But then after his conversation with Henry about going back to work he decided to stay up late, really late, playing Death Soul Three. This despite having to get up early to work one of the pre-dawn shifts. At least that is the hours he will work until he is put back on his original schedule that accommodates tech job hours. Honestly Gem, I don’t know how he works the hours he does and gets any class work done.”

“You’re not going to like me repeating the same sisterly advice but you should talk with him. About things.” 

“I know, I know, you’re right. I was going to the other day when his mum called, I guess she’d been working loads of extra hours at her job and he has been really worried about her. I didn’t know anything about that because he hides things. Hiding the camboy stuff is one thing but he hides little stuff like how worried he is about his mum. I only learned he was concerned because the first thing out of his mouth when he answered her call was ‘Oh thank god you’re finally calling me back, I’ve been so worried.’ Like when he talked with his boss he took his conversation to the privacy of his room, closed the door, came back a half hour later and said nothing. It’s like, it’s like...” 

Gemma finishes the sentence. “Like he is protecting you? Sheltering you? Caring for you?” Harry can almost hear the eye-roll his sister makes in her frustration with him. 

Harry runs a hand through his tousled locks. “Yes, exactly. It’s simultaneously the sweetest thing ever, makes me feel loved, like Nick never did, while it also frustrating. I still don’t know why he was worried about his mum. Is she sick? I wonder but then I don’t thinks so because I hear him talk to his sisters and their conversations don’t suggest she has Covid so why is he so worried?” 

“It seems obvious to me Harry that with his mum being a nurse, working a lot, longer hours with covid-positive patients who are swamping the hospitals, it’s a reasonable concern.” 

Harry was about to agree with his sister’s rational explanation when the odd thing about what she said strikes him. “Gemma, I never told you she is a nurse. How do you know that?” 

There is a slightly longer hesitation like she was caught off guard. 

“I must have heard Louis say something like that at your party or something like that. Where I heard that is not important. What is important is that you talk with Louis. It doesn’t have to start with something that makes him defensive, like the camboy thing. It can start with a subject that might have him open up like how you have feelings for him, or maybe revealing how you identify. Be genuine, see what he says. Given how he takes to privacy when talking to some people but his actions are all in earnest to look after you, I’m betting he has secrets he wants to share too.” 

*** 

A routine blood drawl at the hospital to monitor Harry’s numbers has him taking the route home that leads past the store. He’s worried that Louis left so early and didn’t take the time to eat anything before work. This is his justification for going to the store himself when it is an unnecessary stop. The sensible thing would be sensible to text Louis a list but Harry has an ulterior motivation. 

Approaching the store he looks at every single male patron entering and leaving Smithies with heightened scrutiny. _Is that bloke the right age to be one of them? Or that dude? What about those two?_

Harry only stops his intensive behavior when one such random passer by reacts to Harry’s too lengthy stare-down by tuning back to give Harry a stern warning of “What? Gotta problem buddy? What are you looking at?” 

Harry apologizes, feigns the idea that with a mask he thought the guy was someone else. As he enters the store he gets nervous about deciding to enter a public space for the second time when this stop is optional. He hasn’t been out at all since the stay at home order, his anxiety kicks in. Louis? He must find Louis. 

A hearty laugh familiar to him has him turning to go in one direction. Sure enough he finds the gregarious Niall is working stocking produce. 

So is Louis. It seems Louis is the cause of Niall’s burst of laughter, a jocularity that was ongoing given how flushed Niall’s face is, but then the irony of what the best mates are stocking has Harry stopped. 

Louis on one side of a wide produce isle is stocking fruit, peaches to be exact. Niall on the other side of the isle is doing vegetables...eggplants. 

Adding to this scene is how Louis has one particularly well-shaped eggplant that he rubs along the cease of a peach that he paused stacking on the pile he creates as this peach is particularly large and succulent-looking. Niall is in hysterics such that tears begin to stream down his face. 

Their nsfw behavior has them watching for the foot traffic coming their way and this leads to Louis spotting Harry. The instant Louis sees a familiar face he slips the eggplant into one of the pockets of his stockboy apron. 

“Harreh!” 

Harry’s anxiety is washed away by the sound of Louis’ voice and the sight of the crinkles that bracket Louis’ eyes. Louis’ entire body takes on a brightness at seeing Harry despite that it has been a long stretch of only the two ot them seeing only each other day after day during Louis’ hiatus from Smithies. Having one of his best mates to banter with doesn’t diminish how much he shines with Harry coming into his orbit. 

_He is the sun and I orbit him,_

_He plays with a peach and an eggplant, because yeah, right, thats what all straight blokes do._ Harry thinks, followed with, 

_If I give Gemma one more example of her hunch being correct she is going to snap._

“What are you doing here Harry?” There is a slight sound of concern to Louis’ query as he stops his stacking and comes to Harry. 

“I went to give blood today, decided to stop in to pick up some produce.” Giving blood is a lie, but it is more safe than saying a blood-drawl. Louis dismisses the subject and asks the obvious. 

“You couldn’t text me a list?” 

“Sure, but you know me. It is a weird assortment of things, I’m looking for the precise right stage of ripeness.” 

Louis takes on a sass-laden stance. He juts one hip to the side as he puffs out his chest and puts hands on hips. “And what? I can’t be trusted to judge that?” Louis winks at Niall before adding, “I do know how to select produce, just ask Niall how good I am with peaches and eggplants.” 

Niall bends over with renewed laughter holding onto the cart that contains the eggplants yet to be stocked, gasping for air in his hysteria. When he finally stands up straight he can’t resist adding his take. 

“And bananas, he should see what you can do with bananas!” 

Louis giggles, Harry is laughing too at the best mates easy banter when some foot traffic snaps the two Smithies employees out of their nsfw humor. Each of them greet passers by and ask of they can help with anything. Louis doesn’t entirely stop with his suggestive thought-line as he mentions the elderly lady customers with an oh-so-innocent sort of tone “We have some fresh peaches in just today, very juicey, very sweet. Oh and there is a special on eggplant, I’d suggest take two and you’ll get the second half-price.” 

The elderly ladies are oblivious to Louis’ meaning but Niall appears unable to take any more of this. He turns and leaves his station with a face beat-red and tears saturating his mask. 

The customers thank Louis, continue on with their shopping. Notably they do take some peaches and eggplant. Harry can sense the self-adulation radiating off his roommate. 

_Bananas? Just stop!_ Harry thinks. 

Louis turns back back to Harry. “Eggplants Louis? And peaches...a little riscay for the over seventy crowd aren't we?” 

“Oh come on Curly Legs, let me live a little. It was a harmless up-sell on great quality offering.” 

Louis turns away to slide his cart to a place to best continue his stocking, adding “So this complicated shopping list, let’s get to it together and I will put the groceries on my account. Make it quick, I don’t get an offical break on these three hour work slots. It’s a get it in, get it done, get it out kinda thing.” 

Louis’ choice of words has Harry breaking. 

“Fuck me” slips from Harry’s lips in a whisper that has it lost behind his mask. 

“What? It’s hard to hear that slow, low, sultry voice of yours behind the mask, did you say chutney? That’s not in this section.” 

Harry pipes up desperate to snap out of the idea of _get it in, get it done, get it out_. “Papaya, how is the papaya? Oh and I need some mangoes, the riper the better, our onions are getting old, so yellow onions, some tomatoes...and do you know if the seafood department has fresh salmon, or halibut? I’d prefer salmon, the line-caught kind, nothing drift net harvested.” 

*** 

It was the worst shopping experience of Harry life despite Louis collecting everything Harry listed, taking Harry through checkout with their groceries put on his tab all the while introducing Harry to every employee they encounter; other stockboys, the people in the seafood department, the clerks working near their lane at checkout. 

Each introduction came with the same flattery. “This is my roommate Harry, the brilliant, adorable, talented baker and personal chef extraordinaire I mentioned.” 

Louis had Harry constantly blushing but the blush was not the affect that Harry feared could be noticed. In his pants he had a long eggpalnt of his own snaking its way between his jeans and his thigh. 

*** 

Following the scene at the store Harry assumed correctly that Niall had to know Louis’ secret. Niall didn’t question sharing the link to a site when Harry asks. 

Harry shifts his browser to private and goes to the link. 

He creates a user name and passcode. 

He sends his first ask after perusing the “a la cart menu”. 

“Tease28. Banana-split17. CurlyLegs7B”. 

Seven B is their flat number. Is that too overtly provincial? Harry is pretty sure that he could have used any number to meet the requirements to create a user name, but if Harry is doing this, if he is going to do this all-in, he is going to go _this_ bold. 

Perhaps Gemma’s advice was the most wise course but something about the way Lous was with Niall hints that Louis could use a little bold.


	16. Fifty Shades of Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for the smut in this chapter is Karukara, fabulous artist, and whose banana up the bum depiction of Louis will live in infinity as one of the best nsfw bottom!Louis art works. Wish to be able to use Karukara’s image on a moodboard for this fic, but alas...ntb.
> 
> 🍑🍌🍑🍌🍑🍌🍑🍌🍑

“Your request was accepted, a confirmed time will be issued upon receipt of payment” is all the message says. 

The amount Harry is to pay is staggering. This isn’t an emergency use as the account he uses is meant for but Harry can’t resist. He and Louis shared a leisurely dinner of a salmon dish cooked in a blend of papaya, mangoes, tomatoes, onions and spices served over rice without either of them mentioning anything about Tease28 or CurlyLegs7B. 

Louis praised Harry over and over again about how tasty the meal was. He talked a lot about how things were at Smithies while avoiding anything that would segue into bringing up the incident. Everything about Louis was the same nerdy roomy Harry has been living with to an extent that Harry practically question if the MS was affecting his mental acuity. He finds himself on the precipice of having an honest and open conversation with Louis like Gemma recommended when Louis says with a straight face, no lie perceivable. “You should leave the clean up for me to do later but first I have to jump on the computer and do a little tutoring.”

“Tutoring? Is that what you call the tech support now?”

Louis makes a sound that is sort of like a scoff. “Yes, in this case, it’s called tutoring.”

With departing Louis hesitating to make study of Harry from head to toe that lingers notably long a feeling of being exposed comes over Harry. There is an intensity to it like Louis is contemplating something. His lips part as if he is going to say or ask something, he is weighing while scrutinizing Harry but he bites back the words and turns to retreat to his room.

In less than twenty-five minutes CurlyLegs7B’s session of a “Banana-split17” with Tease28 begins. What the code offering means, Harry can’t fathom, but he is about to find out. 

***

“In five minutes the room next to mine becomes the scene of a game of what? I can only imagine! Whats wrong with me?? Why didn’t I take your advice?!?! I know there cant be too shirts like the attacked by bear shirt that a lad was wearing in the club the night before me and Louis met! All can think of is how I saw bear-attack lad gyrating against, dry humping on, a thigh of a handsome, manly bloke! I’ve rewatched the gold-dust boy fuck himself for money, how many times???? Wtf is wrong with me Gem? What am I doing? 

“Having a breakdown? Needlessly creating your own misery? Idk. Go knock on his door. Talk to him. You know he is going to do the banana whatever thing. It might be less uncomfortable to act now before it becomes really awkward between you.” 

Harry doesn't have the chance to reply and share how Louis hesitated like he wanted to talk with Harry before he gets a message that is a count-down. It occurs to him this site he went to is particularly well-designed. Sophisticated in how well it is code-written. Whoever designed this has to be quite the proficient coding nerd.

*** 

Glasses removed, only a very sheer vertically stripped shirt clothing him, Louis welcomes Curlylegs7B across screen to screen and asks Harry, “you being a virgin to me site” if Curlylegs7b is what he prefers to be called. 

Harry coughs. His throat is so dry at the site of his roomy as this alter-ego that he feels as if he has swallowed a desert of sand. 

“Curly,” Harry manages to get out, “you can call me just curly.” 

Louis moves around like to take center frame and adjust some lighting as he continues his introduction to his player’s virgin time. 

“Okay _JustCurly_ , I’m assuming you like shades of blue. Meself? Well I prefer green, a mossy kind of green with some flecks of amber.” 

Louis manner of speaking of “curly” took on a near purr in how he annunciated it. Meanwhile his adjustments transform the fairy lights that Harry has grown accustom to from the lights usual while to a hint of blue. This adjustment was a thing, like so many others, that Harry was unaware Louis could affect in his room to create a setting. It’s also not lost on Harry that mossy green is how to best describe the shade of green of his eyes. 

“I may be called whatever you like. You can call me Tease, because that is what I do, but many prefer other pet names for me...slut, whore, slore, cunt, daddy’s-boy because when it comes to exciting your cock that’s what I am here for. To take you away to wherever to do whatever you want.” 

Louis appears to be pleased with the light as he takes to his bed moving onto it on his by walking over to center on his bent knees. Beside him is a large but shallow, wooden box. Its lid is closed. A brass chain on either side allows it to be opened and have the lid stay upright and open without detaching. Louis giggles as if this pandoras box is a treasure chest as he continues an introduction to his virgin gamer slash roommate. 

“As you are a virgin, we do have a few rules to agree too. Rule number one,” Louis looks down at his treasures and Harry can hear some rummaging of contents, “I decide when we come. You break the rule you have to pay to play again. I’m not here to watch you get spunk all over yourself and then fall asleep and ignore me. I do like getting me-fair share of attention and reward.” 

”Rule number two, absolutely do NOT try to copy or film this or you are banned for life and I will hack into your computer. You won’t like what I would do with the secrets I would find there.” 

Removing something from the box, Louis lays the item on the bed where it is blocked from view by the fluffed up layers of blankets before moving the box off the bed. 

“Now _Justcurrrly_ , this is our first time and I’ve been waiting for a dream like you to come to me. Those lips, dimples, the hair, now show me what you got under your clothing. Why are you still fully dressed? Makes me wonder if you are wanting me enough show me your dick or if you're just going to watch. Don’t be shy, I can work with all these little things. Very curious though, what do you have for the Tease? Are you circumcised or not? Do you hang to the left or to the right? Do you have one of those pale white dicks, or are you more a shade of red...you know I read once there are at least fifty shades of red, I wonder if I will ever see all of them in dicks. I hope so. I really, _rrreally_ like dick. In me hands, me mouth and me hole. I truly can’t get enough cock. Show me please, Justcurrrly, what have you got?” 

Harry’s stunned lack of immediate reaction has Louis pulling a pouty face. His glasses abandoned, his hair styled in a slightly spiky way such that a blue cast of fairly lights filtering through the styling has Harry getting a sensation where his aroused prick squirts some precum. 

How the hell is he gonna not break rule number one?

Harry snaps out of his stupor to begin to attempt to remove clothing. Louis watches as he reaches across his bed to take a banana that was laying on the bed but went unnoticed by Harry. Peeling the banana Louis begins to slowly eat while watching Harry’s clumsy undress. Staring into the camera on his computer, eyes unshielded by glasses, appear larger and more expressive, adorably pixie-like. 

“So I take it that your selection is because you like bananas?” Louis’ question is paired with a slight smirk as he adds, “I was always a strawberries and watermelon person but recently I’ve taken a liking to mangoes, and papaya.”

After his reference of their shared reality, perhaps caught by surprise as Harry becomes fully disrobed, Louis stops his nibbling. This pause allows for his focused examination of all of Harry. Harry tingles with the scrutiny of his naked self before his flatmate and with modesty, because Harry Styles has a huge cock he stands with his hands together cupping in front of his crotch in an attempt to conceal some his package.

Louis makes a “humph” sound, raises an inspect-full eyebrow before resuming finishing the banana ever so much more slowly. Upon finishing, the peel he tosses in a direction Harry knows is toward the garbage can. He slides a second banana closer to where he is, still standing on his bent knees atop the bed. His response to a naked, but concealed Harry comes more painfully slowly than his banana consumption.

“Lean yet muscular, just the way I like my men. And shy are we? How sweet, too bashful to show me that prick of yours?”

Louis takes ahold of his thin, shear shirt at its collar. 

Harry hasn't given the shirt much of a thought aside from the observation that it has sheer black and shite stripped panels and looks a lot like a soccer jersey in cut except for it being so see-though a fabric. It covers fully Louis’ torso and ends just at the top of his thighs. Whenever Louis was moving the translucentness of the fabrics teased some glimpses of Louis’ easily manhandled form. 

With hands at the neckline on each side of the collar Louis adds, “I will show you mine if you show me yours.”

A shockingly sudden hard pull he makes rips the sheer fabirc. The tattered shirt slips off. There on his knees but upright, no concealing interfernce is a bare, twinky and yet curvy Louis, fairy lights playing in the background. In the foreground his shapely form has a befinning of an erection posting ever so slight. His thighs parted ever so slight are so scrumptiously thick and firm. His waist small. A tiny softplace under his belly button says “kiss me here”, his tiny nips scream “me too” and his collarbones... Harry the roommate has never had the chance to study every little thing that is a detail about Louis’ perfection like CurlyLegs can.

With his body fully exposed Louis runs his hands over himself and with a playful pass around one of his nipples his narration about how much he wishes _JustCurly_ was the one whose hands where on his skin, he makes mention of “...me tongue would like to flick those nipples of yours, they are so puffy they say ‘play with me’”.

Standing alone in his own room watching Louis on the screen as Louis introduces this banana-split thing Harry feels like he is a dolt, a moron an unworthy spectator and some weakness takes over his knees. He still conceals his member and his balls though his cock is slowly making its presence more than a handful. His slight wavering and reluctance Louis notes.

“Aren’t a shy one? Gonna keep things covered this entire time?” Louis reaches for the second banana. 

This one he does not peel as it occurs to Harry that it is precisely the size, color and shape of a banana except for one end where a stem would be there is a cock-head. This is what Louis took from the box. It’s head he puts to his lips, tapping on them like one would do should they have Louis on his knees before them and were asking Louis to part his lips for sucking their dick.

The couple bounces at his mouth are accompanied by him looking deeply into the camera eye with a determination like to telescope into Harry’s eyes his stare is so intense. Making another “humf” noise at Harry’s muteness he keeps staring like he is right there with Harry and begins to lick the little banana head letting his hand direct the length of the toy so he can keep his eyes on the lens that has him holding the stare as he plays with teasing tonguing of the knob.

Harry can almost feel what that would be like as he has had some good head given over the years, maybe just not from one so coy and beautiful.

Louis makes an offering sort of paton the bed after pulling the toy away from his mouth, “Imagine you are here with me, mine.” In the petting of cover he comes across a tube of lube, he laughs, “Oh look, it’s strawberry!” Lowering his voice to sound more deep and raspy he suggests, “Maybe you should at least sit on a chair ShyJustCurly.”

Harry thinks he should indeed sit as he feels a weakness in his knees and a slight wavering. His sense of hearing has momentary fuzzy-like dampening so he misses what Louis says next as he moves. The movement has Louis taking the toy to the foot of the bed where the base end of the banana he plants with it posting upright from the bed and begins sucking on the toy, his cheeks hollowing out accentuating his fine bone structure.

Credit to Louis on how he has the angle of his computer lens taking in this image because from Harry’s view the scene gives glimpse of what would be the likely view if one were laying on their back with Louis hovering over their legs giving head as the benefactor relaxed and took this all in. The lucky only has to watch and wish as Louis does a series of toying with the head, shallow bobs, a few deep-throats and a fair amount of tonguing the protruding vein that would likely be formed on a real cock.

Harry has to take hold of himself, his member so hard he cant keep it hidden any more nor can he resist not being touched. He hopes a move he makes makes it so he steps to take his crotch out of view and in the need to chance this is the case his knees are uncooperative, his feet feel like lead and the only indication that the misstep was taking his package out of view comes in how Louis stops, protests Harry’s move.

“Oh, so we are _the tease_ now are we. What have you gotten hidden there JustShyCurly? A two-headed anaconda?” Louis smirks, adds, “It’s okay, I can handle two heads.”

Having said that he takes the banana to tap on his cheek like he is thinking. Harry means to try to question him but his brain gets a fuzzy fade-out, only a second or two, eyes blurred only to return to the sight of Louis lubing his toy. Toy in hand he switches hia orientation to take one foot to the floor, the other he keeps on the bed. This has Louis standing mostly sideways, his legs in a split as one leg is hiked up. 

This spread fives meaning to “banana split”. This also gives a very nice view from the side of his perky erection and his perfectly bubble-shaped bum, a bum he beats on a little with the slicked toy bringing a redness to the side of his ass and spurring on all sorts of notions in Harry’s imagination. 

There was a thing that strikes Harry as the excitement begins, a fading, a dampening of hearing but when hearing resumes, sight is blurred, next knees weaken once more. All this while Harry is aware that Louis is prepping his hole and begin to plunder his ass while speaking sweet-naughty things that are meant to bring Harry into the act. 

Compromised by these sensation challenges, the last thing Harry has cognizant focus on is Louis turning his split pose just ever so slightly more to have bum to his camera where half the toy is stuffed up his arse, gushing lubricant drips out of and around his hole and the entirety of this is such that all the old sensory glitches compound. 

Harry loses all hearing, his eyes show him only shades of grey and his legs fail him. He thinks he calls out before he breaks, at least he tries to cry out. His last sensation before black is perhaps the chair he pulled over but never used. He knows only that there is a sharp pain in his side. 

*** 

Is this what resuscitation is like? 

Lips are on his. Hands delicate on his face. 

The lips leave. 

Breath-soft voice whispers softly, “Are you back to me?” 

Following quickly are commands. “Don’t move. Breathe. Keep your eyes closed and let your body adjust. You need to stay here a little, just gonna cover you until things become ...normal.” 

Harry opens his eyes when he feels a blanket from his bed pulled over him. 

Louis. No nerdy glasses. His hair still a spiked, fringy, sexy mess. He has a little makeup on. Not a lot but some peachy shimmer shadow on his lids make his blue eyes all the more stunning. 

He's still nude too. This would be exciting accept that Harry has no idea what happened and the Louis who resuscitated him is trembling and like the roommate Harry thought he knew looks slight, diminutive and not at all like a master of sexory, well except maybe for the styling. Wafting from him is a hint ever so slight of strawberry. The scent cements the idea that all of this is not some dream. 

“What happened?” Harry asks as Louis puts a water bottle to Harry lips advising “One sip please.” 

Without batting an eye Louis chirps a reply like it is common happenings. 

“I stuck a banana-shaped dildo up my arse and you passed out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Anonymous for inspiring the title of this chapter “Fifty Shade of Red”. I hope I can write your Centaur prompt. Maybe submit it to the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2021. They should be opening up for submissions this spring and they do a superb job of supporting authors. Without support like theirs many authors simple run out of steam. I know of three creative, talented persons in the bl community who just this year became ghosts.
> 
> Oh and the “crystal” ficlet will be posted on my Tumblr, Palosquared, as it is not a nsfw story but a good laugh if anyone ever doubts the intellect of Scorpios and their bane for the dim.


	17. little buddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always there are references to songs and other 1D historical documents.
> 
> needs beta
> 
> Please enjoy and keep you and yours well. xo~Palo  
> ✨🤍✨

“So what happened next?” an enthralled Gemma asks. 

Harry continues sharing with her every graphic detail of his experience as CurlyLegs7B, failure that it was.

“Once he covered me he laid beside me and kept offering me water, convincing me to just relax and focus on breathing. He was so closely pressed to me I could feel as his cock slowly became flaccid as he cuddled with me there on the floor of my room.

“Eventually I had put together what I remembered last, followed with waking to his lips on mine, the gnawing pain in my side because when I fell I landed on my hard chair. I was thinking of something funny to say, like maybe ask if I get a refund when he began asking me thing, like what did I loose first, balance or consciousness. 

“I told him that two times while watching him my hearing kind of dropped, for lack of a better way to describe it. And a couple times my sight blurred, my knees weakened. Louis made a little joke saying that he frequently makes men weak-kneed, but then he went silent and for a long time with us both laying there before he confessed.

“He first apologized for weak-kneed joke if it seemed insensitive, then he hesitated again before he said the vision and hearing thing seems _unusual_. I could tell he had carefully chosen the word unusual with some considerable thought. There was another long, silent pause, so much so that I was petrified of what he was going to say next. Suddenly, or it seemed suddenly to me Louis became jittery, he began telling me to breathe. I thought I was breathing but he said my heart seemed to be racing and he had said my name twice without getting a response from me, like I was eyes-wide open but passed out again. This really threw me. 

“At this point he was no longer laying with me but had moved on top of me, straddling me, hands on me like he was going to have to resuscitated me again. I could see tears in his eyes, he had a few on his cheeks, he looked frightened...frighten for me, _because of me_. He started sobbing, his hands went over own his face as he sat on me blurting out things like when he saw me go over, heard my crashing onto the chair he ran to me. All he could think was he should have talked to me when we finished dinner like he wanted to but he knew I was keeping all sorts of secrets from him. He confessed he knew about my MS, he knew about me and Nick and that he knew I was at the center of some stupid rumors about a student contracting Ebola and some weaponized HIV variant. 

“He repeated that he has wanted to talk with me, from the beginning, and removing his hands, his eyes, so blue, glassy with tears, the tip of his nose pink, it was like was looking at this angel who held me between his legs. I swear that for a second I believed that if I reached around to his back I would find wings tucked together back there and...” Harry trails off giving to tears himself for reliving the feelings Louis made in him. 

“And?” Gemma asks as too many seconds tick by forcing her to add emphasis, “ _and what_?” 

“And he confessed, blathered on that he thinks he is in love with me...listed a bunch of stupid reasons, like he is addicted to how I smell, that I smell like home to him, stuff like that. He thinks its adorable how I still can’t play the games for shit, that I have to arrange the things in the refrigerator in a specific way, fold the clean towels and linens just so. It was a really sappy, very long list he cited that he loves about me. Notably, unlike Nick, he didn’t emphasize anything about my looks only this long list of silly little things.” 

Excited, Gemma gasps. “Oh my god! Then what happened?” 

“He leaned down and kissed me. I let him make this kiss long and deep but when I thought he was going to pull away I didn’t want to loose the feeling of his tongue in my mouth, his bare skin against mine so I drove my tongue into his mouth as I gripped his bum with my hands which sent him into a frenzy. The next thing I knew he was sucking on my tongue in a way unlike anyone has ever done before. It was as if he had dick in his mouth, he'd pull back a little, never letting my penetrating tongue leave his mouth before he sits his mouth back with lips pressed to mine. The whole time he was doing this he frotted himself against me, crotch to crotch making himself hard. I don't know how I wasn't hard, but maybe it was that whatever it was that afflicted me left me impotent but as his mouth gave my tongue a good fucking, for lack of a better word, his body so hot I began to feel burning wet heat fill the nonexistent space between us. In my hands I felt his bum clench, his thighs gripped me so tight I could feel how powerful his orgasm was.” 

Gemma is left speechless leaves Harry picking up again. “And then, he began a little weeping sort of sound and apologizing, somewhere in there he said he refunded my payment before we started. He said he didn't know how to tell me he knows what I have, he thought if he could give me what I need that I would open up. 

“It was very sobering what he told me next, about what he has learned about MS, about how many people have sexual disfunction with it. He said it is okay if I can’t get an erection, I don’t need to hide anything from him. 

“Gemma, it was simultaneously sweet while completely terrifying too. I kept him close to me, told him what I could understand about my collapse. It seemed like a MS thing, maybe, but then again it really didn't. I don't have much experience with having accerbations and I never lost my feeling of arousal, not until I was passed out. I just... I, I don’t know why, I panicked? God he is so gorgeous.” 

”And where is this gorgeous, little angel now?” 

“He’s at Smithies now, still working early shifts until they can put him back at his original slot. They are still struggling with scheduling, loosing employees to fears of contact with the public. My hope is that he has to stay working the early hours for two reasons. For one I hope it is less likely he will be around someone who isn't masking properly and then I also think there is less chance for him to encounter the two blokes who attacked him. We haven’ t talked about this, so much has happened so fast after last night, but I firmly believe they absolutely knew Louis is, you know, what he does.”

“What do you do about that, I mean now that the walls are coming down.”

“I don’t know Gemma, maybe follow my smart sister’s great advice.”

“About the strange passing out? Do you want me to tell mum?”

“No, don’t say anything to her. I have a call into my neurologist’s office to schedule a remote appointment so after know more I will call her. Acerbations don’t normally behave like the experience I had and this is what has me really confused.”

Harry and Gemma’s conversation becomes a detail review of how Harry felt as the dampening of his senses came in waves that were hard to describe. Her help organizing his symptoms ended with a promise to call her after his phone consultation and Harry guaranteeing to follow her parting advise “...maybe have Louis sit in with you and have him take notes for you.”

***

Harry is sat at his computer waiting for his neurologist to join him and the doctor’s PA on the zoom-call when Louis returns from work. 

The Louis who passes his door wears only the nerdy glasses as the protocol of Louis continuing to undress immediately when returning from work continues. Harry calls out to Louis who stops just past Harry’s door peering in to reply.

“Yes, CurlyLegs?”

“Could you do me a favor? I’m waiting to talk to my doctor to join this meeting and I was hoping you could come sit in with me? Maybe listen in to help me remember everything that he says?”

Louis beams with pride with this trusting request. “Yes, yes! Be right back!” 

Harry hears the shower water turn on and then quickly off not more than a minute or two later. Louis returns with hair still wet and having thrown on his typical attire of a baggy hoodie and a pair of trackers. Pulling up a chair up beside Harry at the desk he chirps “Fast enough?”

For Harry this task is so daunting, his nerves fraying, hopefully only figuratively, while he bites back the fear that he is shifting into a potential pattern of relapsing-remitting MS. 

Or worse. 

Harry read all the factors on how multiple sclerosis effects a person. He knows the statistics. Most people who are diagnosed at his young age have a form of MS that is dramatic in how quickly it afflicts them. He is trying to push this fear away when the PA tells Harry the doctor is just finishing review the information she took from Harry and will be with them in one minute.

Harry tries to say “thank you” but his throat gets that sand-of-desert-coated feeling like it had the night before when he was overcome. 

Louis at his side, pats his knee and leaving his hand there he replies on Harry’s behalf. “Thank you. Harry wants to say thank you, but he is looking a little pale.”

The PA offers comfort. “Good thinking Harry, asking a note-taker to be there with you.” With a new window opening on their call the PA adds, “Okay the doctor is a available to see you now.” 

His doctor’s introductory comments are meant to be calming but the only comfort Harry gets as the physician begins to reiterates what the PA documented ahead of this remote appointment. His first inclination, he tells Harry based on the new information and the existing medical history from very recent MRIs and other tests that he is certain Harry did not have an acerbation. 

The neurologist’s pragmatic, methodical preliminary diagnosis of Harry’s experience becomes increasingly hard for Harry to follow. Harry can track only two things that are sustaining him in the immediacy of the stress. 

Thing one, Louis is rapidly scribing notes with the pen and pad Harry prepared to use but hadn’t touched. 

Thing two is how Louis keeps one hand on Harry’s knee.

Harry only finally realizes what is being said to him when it becomes clear that the doctor has to ask him a repeat a question, the second time the doctor attempts to simplify and clarify. 

”Harry, did you hear the question? Have you had any of these kind of symptoms strike at any other time as a single symptom, such as only your sight is impaired, or do these sensory deficits consistently happen in concert where your sight, your hearing and your muscles feel weak?” 

A conjuring a reply abnormally slow to formulate as Harry feels numbness permeate him. His sight blurs and his hearing fades. His own voice sounds in his head like he is talking underwater. Before he can get out more than a word or two about the trifecta of symptoms is actually occurring this instant, Louis jumping to his feet. Louis’ hands go to Harry’s face like to keep Harry with the present with him. 

Before the wall of black Harry can only hear with the underwater muting the concern of Louis. “Harry? It’s happening again....” 

***

A constricting sensation on his bicep and Louis talking with the doctor is what Harry awakes to. The blood pressure cuff is allowed to express air as Louis removes it and reports “One-seventeen over eighty,” quickly following with “his eyes open!”

“Okay Louis, keep our patient on the floor until he fully regains his senses.” 

In keeping with the recommendation Louis gently presses down on Harry’s shoulders like to affirm the doctor’s directive. 

The doctor prompts Louis. “Okay listen with the stethoscope again. What do we have?” 

Louis puts the radial disc of a stethoscope on Harry’s chest reports a normal heart rate. Harry decides he should ask though the answer is obvious. 

“I did it again?” 

A concerned-looking Louis smiles sweetly. “Yes, yes, you did. No bananas involved. Thankfully you weren't standing.

Voice of the doctor oblivious to Louis’ reference to bananas chimes in. 

“And thankfully your mate there is quick to react and has some CPR experience!”

Louis blushes with the praise. “Me mum is a nurse, being the oldest of five meant I had to always be ready for emergencies although me sisters were mostly inclined to have nothing more than skinned knees and elbows.”

The doctor laughs. In Harry’s experience the esteemed neurologist is not prone to levity but the Louis brings out the sunny side of everyone.

***

It is after Louis is leaving Smithies when he texts Harry.

“Hey, CL, gonna drive to Doncaster. Text you when I am nearly back.”

Harry understands, or so he thinks, the motivation. In the five days since his second of two panic attacks, as the doctor diagnosed, he has been clingy. Unusually clingy. 

The upside of this is that Louis has been sleeping with him in his bed to be sure “it doesn’t happen again.” It has been blissful to wake from a dream and have Louis spooning him, a soft breath tickling the back of his neck.

The downside is all of Harry’s effort to cook, the one consistently appreciative thing Harry can do for Louis who does so much, have ended with disaster. In a way Harry understood they are at a breaking point when the night before Louis, who doesn't cook, Louis who doesn't plan out meals or try to eat well, made them dinner. 

It wasn't any dinner either. Not a simple dish from a box where you add one or two things and it is ready in thirty minutes or less. 

Nope.

Louis spent hours. He was on the speaker phone with his mum through most of it. At the end he put on the table that he formally set complete with candles like they were having a holiday feast a Roasted Chicken Wrapped with Parma Ham and a side of mashed potatoes.

Louis who can’t even make toast without burning it pulled off this homey, almost romantic meal, if Harry wasn't feeling so vulnerable and uncomfortable since his two back to back episodes he would of considered taking their time in bed to show Louis a different side of him.

Alas as Harry is cleaning up from Louis’ delicious dinner he worries about this sudden trip to Doncaster. All he can guess is in the hours of mother and son cooking-focused conversations she expressed some concern.

Does Mrs Tomlinson fear Harry is Dragging her son down?

***

A knock at the door has Harry waking from a dream he fell into on the couch in the late hour because Louis should be home soon and he can’t go to bed until then. 

“Niall?”

Niall in his Smithies apron has box to deliver. “Louis said to bring this and tell you no peeking. You’ll ruin the surprise.”

He sets in down, inquires if Harry is okay to which Harry rambles on about how draining classes have been. As a curtsey he asks how Niall is doing, Niall reports classes are good mostly and the store is a good gig.

Closing the door after sliding in the large box Harry wishes he could have invited Niall in but as Louis’ anticipated return is getting closer and closer he only wants to wait, like an excited puppy at the door.

Once again sleep takes him. Puppy at the door is his last cognizant thought.

This is why the puppy-like sound is in his dream when the front door opens and there is Louis. His normal strip off his hoodie inside out and put in the laundry bin he attracts his hands from the large central pocket pulling out a little black puff of curls. 

The puff whimpers. Harry extends it toward Harry saying, “Now buddy, it’s okay. This is your home, meet you new papa-curly.”

A puppy, maybe barely eight-weeks old wiggles in protest of how it is held. This gives Harry a glimpse of some white fur on an otherwise sea of black curls. 

Harry rushes to take the puppy. 

“Louis! What is this?”

Louis begins his strip. “It’s a puppy Harry, Papa Curly. Me mum and I have been talking about your panic attacks. Can’t have you having them when I am at the store. One of her nurse friends works in a unit at the hospital where they focus on issues like anxiety, panic disorders, migraines. She knows a breeder-trainer who raises dogs for therapy. This puppy is from that line of dogs and is the one that was available. They are expensive dogs and take a lot of training but my mum and her friend got me connected and I bought him. We can train him ourselves. He will be your advance alert for onset of a panic attack. Therapy dogs are also useful for all sorts on MS issues.”

Harry isn’t even aware of how much the puppy is snuggling to him seeking his warmth like he would do having just been taken from his littermates and his mum. Rather Harry is mystified at Louis. Louis, stripped nude, is heading away from Harry, his bum having its typical bubble-butt waddle. 

“So we are parents now? Of a wee-little puppy that is expected to alert me to an attack?”

Louis stops, turns slowly giving Harry a three-sixty look at all of his sensual, twink-perfection.

“Yes Harry. We are his parents together. And yes, he will be your crisis alert dog. Naturally not straight away, he is just a baby...” 

Louis barely begins to get out the next words before the puppy tinkles on Harry having been ignored through his whimpers that were a sign of need to pee.

“Potty training, thing one. Even though he has just peed on you, please take him out to the grass so he can start to associate grass and pee, grass and pee. Then open that box Niall brought. It should contain what we need for his first night. I’ll get things delivered from the pet store tomorrow. Oh and think of a name for him. I’ve just been calling him little buddy. You pick something that those amazingly beautiful lips of yours can mumble even if you feel woozy.”

Louis turns to leave. 

Harry looks in the puppy’s eyes that are in transit development from newborn-blue and future Laim-brown. The puppy whimpers, his pee drips still trickling off his small body, the only thing suggesting how big he will be is his paws that seem two-sizes too big for the rest of him.

Speaking softly like to coo over the small, disoriented critter Harry says, “It’s okay little buddy...Buddy. Mistakes happen. Let’s go find some grass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, little buddy, Buddy is Clifford. We will get there.


	18. Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** 🦮 ***

“Hand me Buddy,” Louis says late on their new arrival’s first night, the pup having fallen asleep on Harry’s lap, “if we’re going to bed now he should go out again.”

The puppy’s sleeping routine is their first disagreement. Harry wanted the new pup to sleep in bed with them. Louis was a firm no, saying “We should start as we intend to go, he sleeps in his place. When he is full grown are you going to want a big dog in your bed?”

The disagreement didn't last long. All Louis had to do to win was give Harry a choice. His arms went around Harry’s waist, his body stood so close to Harry’s that their heat became one, Louis looks up at Harry softly faux-conceding. “Okay Harry. Have it your way. He can sleep with you and I’ll go back to sleeping in me own bed.”

Buddy ends up sleeping in his well-padded box. 

Louis proceeds to get up throughout the night with any whimpers taking on a distinctive tone that he clearly recognizes as the pup needing to pee. After a quick trip outside he returns tucking Buddy into his makeshift sleep-place, disrobing and tucking himself tight to Harry to warm up from the crisp night air. Bad as Harry felt for the little pooch being in a box away from his mama and littermates, he kinda liked this need for sharing warmth and doesn't mind the strict parenting rule Louis imposes.

In the morning Louis is quick to jump up to take the puppy out. Greeting Louis with an offer of tea for Harry puts some water in a bowl beside some kibble he has set out for Buddy. Louis looks a little less than rested but his morning smile is a bright as ever as he graciously accepts the tea. 

“Can I cook you a quick breakfast?” Harry offers as Louis begins rummaging through their kitchen for something to eat settling on some less than desirable, zero-nutrition kid’s cereal Louis has an affinity for. 

“No thanks, m’good with this.” Louis pours the overly sweet cereal in a bowl and smiles at Harry who is on hands and knees watching the puppy eat. “As soon as he is done, take him back outside.”

“Okay but he was just out.”

“Yes, have you never had a puppy growing up?”

“No, no puppies. We Styles are cat people.”

“Oh, well, welcome to dod-world. Puppy eats, he goes out. Puppy drinks, he goes out. He plays, he goes out. He wakes,”

Getting the pup in hands, his morning meal complete along with a big drink of water, Harry shows his understanding by picking up Buddy with his food eaten and his water bowl emptied, “I get it, puppy goes out. How many times do you think he will need to have a pee while your at work?”

Louis, abandons his cereal, comes to Harry embracing him and the puppy so he can play with each of their respective curls. “Let’s just say that you are going to be very busy all morning. Puppies this young have a lot of urgencies. Work when he naps. The more observant you are of his needs to go out the quicker he learns and fewer accidents.”

***

With the puppy for company the hours seem to have flown by when Harry hears Louis return from Smithies. A few seconds later Louis passes by Harry’s door, butt naked. “Hi!” Louis merely calls as he is taking his standard routine of quickly heading to their bathroom. 

On Harry’s lap is the tiny ball of fluff. The significance of this living gift, and what it represents about them, some permanence, inspires Harry to consider being bold. Adding to his thinking is Louis’ confession. That has Harry considering joining Louis in the shower and, well, lathering him up, maybe help him shave and perhaps fuck him there. Too bold? Maybe, but Harry has it bad for his roommate. 

Despite trying to smoothly slip the sleeping puppy into his makeshift, temporary bed, Buddy wakes. Wakes, yaws and wiggles. Harry learned already that papa-Louis knows best; the one chanced delay in following the potty-training rules resulted in an accident. Lesson learned, Harry takes Buddy outside hoping if this is a quick wee and he can proceed with joining Louis. 

Once outside Buddy immediately pees on the grass before taking to excitedly running around like a crazed pup. His little yaps are delightful and suggest that this tiny puppy imagines himself as he is oh-so-big, so fast and ferocious. Harry is lost in laughter and doesn't act before Buddy darts under a parked car where a wrapper with some human food calls to his nose. Taking to his hands and knees Harry tries to call his wayward puppy but the puppy doesn't have this “Buddy” or “come” thing down, certainly not when there is a smelly, partially-eaten sandwich on the line.

In his struggle to call the pup, Harry is aware that car pulls into the parking area and stops nearby. Looking across under the car where Buddy gorges on rubbish, Harry sees a familiar pair of black, leather, clunky boots step out of the newly parked car. 

A familiar voice inquires. “Harry? Whatever are you doing.”

Looking pretty in her black and white ensemble, her faux military boots, her long, white cashmere coat is Eleanor. Harry is struck by how he would like to like Elk if she were not a person of interest in Louis’ life. 

“Hey El, Eleanor...” Harry turns back to the challenge, reaching to no avail, as far as he can under the the car, “come here, I said, come!”

To her credit, concerns for her nice clothing aside, Eleanor gets down on the ground and peers under too.

“Oh a puppy! How sweet! Where did you find it?”

“Louis, Louis got him.” 

All Eleanor says is “Oh” but the manner in which she says it speaks volumes. 

Harry was about to explain something that he couldn’t when joining them comes freshly showered Louis.

“Whatcha doing?” He asks bemused at the sight of the two crouched beside a parked car.

“Buddy is under there, gotten a hold of some sandwich someone tossed out.”

Louis joins them on the pavement beside the parked car. In a deftly clever move he extracts a small squeaky-toy from the pocket of his hoodie and gives it a loud squeak as he calls “Buddy!” in an excited pitch. The pup immediately comes running to him.

Picking up the pup, Louis holds him so they are eye to eye playfully chiding the little thing. “Now Buddy, we don’t eat just any old stuff we find laying around. In Harry’s home it’s only a healthy diet.”

Louis follows the scold with a wink to Harry that Eleanor is not able to catch given she is looking only at the puppy and asking if she can please, please hold him, when did Louis get him, where, what kind of dog is he?

All Harry can think is why is _she here_. 

Elk’s fawning over the pup and string of questions become too insufferable for Harry when she begins to ask things Harry hasn’t considered like what is going to happen with the puppy when Louis goes to Brazil next year. 

Harry is compelled to interrupt. “Eleanor, why are you here?”

The abruptly rude question has Eleanor and Louis stopped mid-exchange. Eleanor blinks slowly as she is put off at the distinct bite in Harry’s voice. 

“Um,” is all she manages to say before Louis chimes in. 

”She’s here to pick up a thumb drive from me.” 

Harry’s jealousy of Eleanor cooing over the pup along with the mention of a thumbdrive has an lover’s anger enveloping Harry.

Laden with undeniable thick distain he snarls. “Oh _are we_?” 

This has Louis looking at Harry with puzzlement. Harry shrugs which has Louis shaking off the mood permeating the air to go get Eleanor a drive after he passes their puppy to Eleanor to hold. In Louis’ absence Eleanor resumes cooing over the puppy pretending she doesn’t feel Harry’s scathing stare. 

Louis is back just as Harry elects to snatch Buddy from Eleanor. Looking a little shocked she turns determilenly to Louis. 

“You have work to get to, or can we take him for a little walk?” 

Harry stiffens at Eleanor’s request but Louis declining it is a modest relief at the affront Harry feels over her being honor as a thumbdrive recipient. 

With Eleanor thanking Louis, parting with one final word, “Labradoodle”, Harry’s thoughts turn to what trouble he has brought on himself with his childish, jealous, possesive behavior.

“Harry, what was that about?” Louis asks as they return to their flat. 

Several responses rapidly pass through Harry’s mind.

Things he would like to say in defense range. Things like her timing sucks because _wanted to get with you in the shower_. Or, simply claiming her fawning over the puppy seemed _irritatingly overdone_. Or maybe he should ask Louis about what will actually happen when the year ends with the Brazil plans. Or perhaps most nagging of all, ask what was on that thumb drive. 

None of these explanations or questions come out when put on the spot. Instead Harry puts the puppy down, pretends he didn’t act weird or possessive and says “Needed to get to classwork is all. It’s been a busy morning, puppies are a lot of work.”

Louis watches Harry with a drawn out studious pause after a simple “Okay” of resignation to move on. Nonchalant, as Louis is Harry has the feeling Louis had more to say.

Louis literally shaking off Harry’s moodiness comes to the floor beside Harry playing with Buddy. Rather than readdress Harry’s behavior he rubs Harry’s back. This hints that Louis may be far more intuitive about the impact of the words “Brazil” or “thumbdrive”. 

“Harry, remember to do this for me as part of his training. If you feel any sign of emotions that are triggering make sure he gets the scent, cough on your hand and have him take a treat from it, okay? He needs to associate your potential onset of anxiety as something he learns to respond to. He’s really young, and now merely learning his name and how to ask to go outside for his business is the first couple of things for him to learn but he is smart, innate, he will learn other things fast.”

The tenderness from Louis is an opening but the opportunity to explain himself but it a lost opportunity when there is a knock at the door. Louis dawns a mask before greeting the delivery of two large boxes marked “City Pet Supply”. Louis tips the delivery worker and pulls the boxes in. One is quite large, the other not so large but heavy. 

Putting Harry’s moodiness behind them Louis cheerfully welcomes assist. “Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” 

He begins opening the boxes. One box contained a pet crate to be assembled, the other has all sorts of puppy supplies from a quality brand “healthy” puppy chow, to toys, a plush bed and a leash and a small harness and collar. About the latter two Louis remarks with a wink, “We most definitely need these because I don’t think mine will fit him.” 

Laughing about his own implication Louis takes no notice of Harry’s mouth agape. 

Hours later, Harry and Louis have been tag-teaming Buddy duty. Even with the parenting shared the time goes quick. Not so quick that Harry doesn't muddle his brain in concerns; Brazil, a thumbdrive...a yearning to be intimate with the one who shares his bed and whose personal attire apparently includes a collar and a harness. 

*** 

Dinner is finished, both are cleaning up the kitchen and although they both know they should take Buddy out before they get too settled into class work both have yet to complete given puppy distractions. Louis accepts a FaceTime call from Eleanor. 

There with her on the screen tucked to her neck and face is a young, wiggly puppy. The golden-color, curly-hair pup is much too similar to Buddy in appearance to be coincidence. 

“Look at what I just brought home, isn’t he sweet? Meet Bruce, Buddy’s brother!” 

Startled, Louis grabs his phone like to look closer at the screen with utter disbelief. 

“You got a puppy?” 

“Well yes. I couldn't stop thinking about how cute Buddy is and how great it would be to have puppy playdates. It took some searching because these dogs are apparently really popular but I found a litter born eight weeks ago with a few pups still available because they are so pricey, jumped on it immediately.” 

Eleanor is gleeful as she cradles the puppy against her face. In her puppy-bliss-state as she rambles on oblivious at the astonished expressions on the faces looking back at her. 

“I had to wait several hours after contacting them to have the paper-work settled. Thankfully since they require owner references I told them you had just gotten a labradoodle from a breeder in Doncaster as I was using your mum as my reference. This is the best part! They said they know that Doncaster breeder. She uses their male dog to cross with her breeding-females so in essence we have literal brother puppies! Or at least, they are half-brothers, isn’t this amazing! I wanted a black one, male like yours, but Bruce is from a litter of all gold puppies but isn’t this perfect? Buddy and Bruce, brothers growing up together!” 

Eleanor finally takes a full breath to come up for air from her puppy-oblivion-euphoria. She clearly is still not aware of the look of disbelief on Louis’ face. 

She resumes mindlessly chattering before Louis, still processing, utters anything about the puppy other than a flat “um”. 

”And by the way, thank you, thank you, thank you, for the thumbdrive. That was perfect! Honestly I was so over the moon excited about getting a baby-puppy brother of Buddy’s that without that for a distraction in the hours of waiting as they processed my paperwork I would have been in pure misery. You are so creative, I love the way you did this one! Oh hey, gotta take Matt’s call. He was the only one I told before you, simply too excited and could not keep a secret for that long. He hasn't seen Bruce yet, gotta go, but expect a playdate tomorrow.” 

Eleanor mouths a kiss and an “I love you” to Louis and then proving she knew Harry was right there too she added, “Bye Harry”. 

... 

In the darkness of closed lids he wakes to a tongue licking his face. The breath that tickles his skin is puppy-breath. 

Vaguely he recalls Louis calling his name with Louis’ voice sounding like Louis was being whipped away through a wind tunnel as all in his world went total black. The floor is hard under him but the voice welcoming him back is soft, no longer like in a vacuum as Louis welcomes Harry’s return to consciousness. 

“Now that was fast this time.” Louis doesn’t bother to remove the puppy from Harry’s chest. Puppy licks take on the form of playful nibbles on Harry’s chin. “You have to get started on that medication your doctor prescribed.” 

“M’sorry,” Harry begins but is cut off. 

“Don’t you dare apologize!” Louis doesn’t move the puppy but he does take charge of Harry’s face by putting Harry’s cheeks in his hands, “You have nothing to be sorry for, now what was the trigger this time?” 

Buddy abandons Harry and begins trying to jump onto Louis, yapping in his little-dog barks like maybe he understands both his people are stressed, though he is young for such sensing. 

Harry begins to move but Louis moves a hand over his shoulder while keeping the other one warn and gently on Harry’s face. “No, stay here for a minute. I broke your fall once but I need to know what happened this time before we have you on those long legs of yours. Was it something Eleanor said?” 

“I guess...” Harry watches Buddy who is playing on or between each of them trying to nibble or nip basically being very content to have humans on the floor where he can do puppy things. “I know it seems silly but I can’t get the idea out of my head that she came here to get a drive from you and, you know...” 

“Know what?” 

“You know.” 

“No Harry I don’t know.” 

With a deep breath Harry expels half of the truth of what sent him over the edge. “I know you have some things on drives that are...” Harry is stopped. 

“You took a drive from me box in me desk.” 

“Yes. I had already taken one before I called you to ask. I had assumed the ones laying on your desk were in use, the ones in the box were not. So I...” 

Louis shifts to lay on the floor with Harry. An arm threading across Harry becomes the focus of Buddy’s playful attacks, his needle-sharp puppy teeth snag on the roomy hoodie sleeve and Louis engages in a game of pushing him away only to have the pup meet each dismissive push with attempts to grab on again. 

“Okay, okay, I get it you saw something on the drive that was private but it was an innocent mistake, so you’ve known for some time about the things I do. Then today I give Eleanor a drive and you immediately assume it has some of me secret projects.” 

Relieved it is another exhaled breath that expels the “Yes!” 

Harry’s confession is rewarded with Louis using Harry’s body as a pillow as he slides on top of Harry. His knees contact the floor but the rest of him from the knees up is stretched over Harry, warming him. 

Their faces close, Louis removes the glasses and a brilliant pool of blue meets Harry’s eyes. “Harry, first, please breathe deep, relaxing breaths. Don’t faint. You need to listen to me. I gave Eleanor a drive with a game, the g-rated kind of game, I have been working on for a class project. I wanted her give it a try, give me feedback. Me assignment is due in two weeks and I have a lot to get done. All she needed to run the game and see if it is fun because I spend so much time coding it I loose track of the gamer’s experience. I would have asked you to test it but you're so dreadfully bad at these games, sorry, but true.” 

Harry is immediately relieved. Embarrassed. Maybe even borderline mortified at his need to be Louis’ one and only. 

Louis unbuttons the top button of Harry's ...with his teeth. “Anything else bothering you?” The ask is innocent but the accompanying action was not. 

The idea _yes, Brazil_ enters but Harry’s mind confounded by the teeth unbuttoning thing as Louis goes to the next button down, makes it so Harry can’t bring his mouth to speak of that. Instead he pipes out a random thought that has been easy to dismiss but a long-standing curiosity. 

“Those glasses! You almost always wear them, but do you need to? I keep thinking about that night after you moved in and you went out for a burger, then later you came home, no glasses. I got the feeling you had a hookup, or something. You said something about Eleanor...” 

The second button is freed. Louis has enough of Harry’s chest exposed to kiss there following with taking a tiny lick of Harry’s skin. This is no puppy lick. Harry’s dick makes a twitch with the touch of a tip of a tongue. 

“Is this about me and El or me glasses? You get one answered.” 

“Glasses!” Harry rushes to expel in a gasp. Louis shift to undo another button. Harry’s dick having another expanding twitch. He can wait on the whole Elk concern, what She and Louis are, any Brazil concern. This mouth undressing him, body to body, this experience he needs to embrace. 

“Me mum got the glasses for me.” Another button frees. “They are for reducing eye-stress from too much screen time.” And yet another and another button. “I do spend most me time looking at a screen.” And the final button as Harry’s cock has gotten hard, so hard Louis pressed to him must feel it. “It’s easier to wear them all the time. Me vision is perfect.” 

“Perfect,” slips from Harry’s lips.

Louis slips down Harry’s body as he takes to his knees to be straddling over Harry’s legs with mischief written on his face. He brushes the two sides of the shirt away exposing all of Harry’s chest. Taking the button closure of Harry’s jeans, he asks, “Can I see more of you?”


End file.
